


Dépaysement

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Seer, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Adrien refused to believe he could see the future. With the accident fresh in his memory, he actively tries to prevent the death from happening, all the while questioning his sanity and the reason behind the sudden visions in the first place. AU.





	Dépaysement

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is okay, _libellulereves_! There's probably a lot of wrong pronouns since I'm not used to writing from Adrien's view. This story got really hard to write towards the end because of stuff happening in real life, so it took a while to get out, and I kept worrying that the ending isn't actually clear enough? I hope it is.

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

Groggily, he opened his eyes, staring at the blurry ceiling up above.

“That was—” Adrien started, pausing as pushed his blond-coloured hair out of his face. “Strange.”

The dream wasn't fading from memory as they usually did. As he trudged to the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror before deciding that he really needed to take a shower before he went to work, he really didn't think that it meant anything.

Then again, dreaming about his ex-girlfriend wasn't normal. If he was being honest, he hadn't thought about her for a while; their friendship had been strained when they'd first reached their teenage years, and the short relationship had just been to appease their parents—which, clearly, hadn't worked by the history in his phone.

While he was sure that familiar faces popped up in his imagination on a daily basis, it wasn't often that they were outright murdered. From what he could remember—which was a lot, surprisingly—there hadn't been anything strange that wouldn't have appeared when he was actually awake, and the only startling thing had been that he'd woken up after dying alongside her.

Well, he was assuming that. Wasn't it a common theory that when someone woke up abruptly in a dream, it meant that they'd died?

“Weird,” he muttered again, shaking his head.

After seeing the dream scenery for the most part of a few hours, as it was visible through the window of his workplace, he decided to get his cell phone out when it came time for his break. Adrien scrolled through social media quickly, typing in a specific name that he'd unfollowed more than a while ago.

It wasn't hard to find Chloé Bourgeois.

With her light blond hair and blue-coloured eyes, she still looked pretty much the same that she did the last time they'd seen each other in person, which had been awkward event close to two years prior.

Their families were friends, meaning they'd been stuck to each other like glue during dinners or whenever they went to large parties together. Although they'd attended different schools—him having been sent to a private boys school despite his protests—they'd kept in touch and tried to say that they were having a long-distance relationship, but it had fallen apart when they'd tried to kiss in front of their parents.

Chloé had taken a lot of offence to that.

They'd only been sixteen, but they didn't really have much reason to see each other after that. Adrien had continued on with his life, suddenly old enough to be given the choice to attend dinners with other families or not (to which he absolutely said _no_ to), and Chloé went her separate way, ignoring his apologies for freaking out.

To be fair, it wasn't as though they saw each other in person often. Their friendship had been purely through the internet during school, and it didn't feel like he'd lost much when they'd suddenly stopped talking from embarrassment.

He wasn't going to think anything of the dream, not really, until he clicked on the latest picture that she'd posted.

It was just the background that made him stare for a while.

The message attached to it explained that Chloé was out to celebrate her friend's birthday, and then a new picture a few minutes afterwards showed her and her mentioned friend with their heads practically squished together to get the both of them into the shot. Still, he was able to see that they were along the street that he was working, the same one that had been featured in his dream.

It was just a weird coincidence, that was all.

It wasn't like he hated his job—it had been for the summer, and he was on his final week before he went off to university—but that didn't mean that he thought about it enough to have it feature in his dreams.

“I'm being ridiculous,” he muttered, pocketing his phone and stretching his arms out, trying to make the best of being able to sit down before he had to stand up for a few hours.

After breathing out audibly, Adrien pulled out his phone again, checking how long he left on his break. Not talking to Chloé was entirely different than dreaming of her dying in a car crash outside of his work, especially when she'd turned up outside of the establishment the following day.

It could have been a coincidence, one that felt unnatural to him, but that was where the logic ended.

There was no denying that he was being stupid, but he readily accepted that. Adrien just couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that was present in his stomach, the one that churned and made him feel close to vomiting as he remembered the few moments before the car and collided with Chloé, and therefore him afterwards.

Adrien stepped out the back, reaching up to fiddle with the hairs at the nape of his neck as he walked round to the front of the shop. He just—he wanted to see that she'd be okay, for himself, that was all.

It was normal to be scared of nightmares, wasn't it? If it had happened when he was younger, he would have woken up bawling and sought comfort from his parents, but he'd grown up from that.

After spotting her from a distance—it wasn't hard, she'd grown as tall as him, able to be seen in crowds with the light-coloured hair—Adrien was determined to put the silly thought aside and walk back inside until his break was over.

He didn't even turn around before he was steadily walking across the street, eyes focused on the button at the crossing that Chloé had just pressed.

The feeling of déjà vu was hard to ignore.

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get her attention, even if it was just to make himself feel better in the long run. But he was too far away to be heard clearly over the vehicles that were passing, or the chattering of strangers that were surrounding them.

He could barely hear his footsteps as he ran closer to the crossing, calling out Chloé's name.

Yet, despite his efforts, the scene played out as it had done when he was asleep. The lights changed, a high-pitched beep was filling the air to alert people to cross, the cars and crowd that were around them looking much the same, other than him being the one to stand beside her.

His body felt tight as he ran forward, the whole oddness of the situation not sitting well with him (nor the dryness of his mouth that warned him that he was close to vomiting from the sudden nerves).

He'd never done that well under pressure.

As she started to take her first steps out onto the street, as delayed as it had been when it was through his eyes the first time, a feeling of panic coursed through him. Although he wasn't behind her, not when she had a friend there instead, it still horrified him how similar the situation was with his dream.

It wasn't _normal_.

It was luck that Adrien had managed to catch up to her. As his pushed his way painfully through the crowd as others started to cross while Chloé stayed beside her friend, too caught up in conversation to move immediately, Adrien knew that he was being irrational. Still, even if they hadn't exactly spoken for almost two years, that didn't meant that he wasn't anything to happen to her.

Sucking in a harsh breath, he clumsily reached out to grasp onto Chloé's arm—and her friend's as an afterthought that was almost too late—tugging them backwards with all the strength that he could muster. It caused him to topple backwards when one of them fell onto him, but none of his limbs were far enough in the road to be hit when he wheezed on the ground.

The sounds around him were distorted for a while, the rush of splitting pain becoming apparent within him, making it hard to concentrate on anything. There was a throbbing in his head, blackness in his vision from where he'd closed his eyes in panic as he'd fallen, but it was the weight that was placed on his shoulders that caused him to recoil back in surprise (well, are far as he could while sitting still on the spot).

“I—Adrien?” was the first thing he could coherently hear when he sluggishly sat up, pressing a hand to the back of his head.

To his horror, it felt wet.

Blearily opening his eyes, he was greeted with a unfamiliar face. They were crouched down in front of him, a clear expression of concern with their eyes looking solely at him, but he was too busy wincing in pain as he took the hand away from the back of his head.

There was definitely blood on his hand, and the pounding of his heart wasn't making the situation any better. It was a silly rush of adrenaline, yes, but it didn't sound like anyone was screaming in horror because two people had been hit by a car.

Blinking rapidly, trying to make his vision clearer and be able to take in his surroundings properly, Adrien flinched when arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, almost causing him to vomit from the abrupt jostling.

“ _Adrien_ ,” he heard, and it became clear as he almost choked on some blonde hair as he turned his head that the one hugging him was someone he barely considered his friend any more. “What are you—how are you _here_?”

Smartly, he replied, “I work here?”

It came out as a question and shaky, portraying just how vulnerable he felt just then. Trying to relieve the discomfort a bit, he closed his eyes.

Chloé squeezed tighter, and he made a noise of disapproval from how his head was hurting. “You just saved my fucking life.”

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“And hers, too. That's two lives.”

That—that meant that there surely would've been a car crash, right? It had happened too fast for him to really comprehend, but he supposed that if he wasn't being berated for randomly pulling her aside, and therefore inconveniencing her, that it meant that he'd done something right.

He really didn't want to think about that right at that moment.

Trying to inject humour since he wasn't sure how to deal with the situation normally, Adrien found himself weakly replying, “I always knew you were good at maths.”

Chloé's laughter sounded wet.

It was a bit of a blur after that. The throbbing in his head was more than prominent, and he stumbled back into his workplace with Chloé at his side, trying to explain that he really didn't need to go to the hospital, and that he just needed to stop the bleeding.

From the few shocked looks that he received, he blamed his blond hair for the blood being so visible. He didn't feel nauseated any more, but that didn't mean that he was entirely okay.

He wasn't really coming to terms with what had happened. Chloé was adamant that she wasn't going anywhere when he jokingly said that she didn't need to stick around with him when he'd stumbled back into the café, and the actual concern in her expression wasn't something that he'd seen for a few years.

Hell, he hadn't seen her for that long. Adrien had skipped out on the dinners that she'd been bound to have attended, along with her family, and he'd immaturely unfriended her online once they'd stopped talking altogether. And yet, she was there beside him, fretting and just about ready to scream at him if he didn't seek medical attention.

After using the medical kit in the back of the café, out of the customers view, Adrien cast a look to Chloé who was sitting beside him. “Where'd your friend go?” he suddenly asked after there'd been some awkward silence between them.

“You're only noticing now?” Chloé raised her eyebrows, a bit in disbelief. “I told her to fuck off, of course.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

“Not going to scold me for being rude?”

“No.” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but he was too busy holding up a towel to the back of his head to catch any droplets of blood that continued to appear. He'd agreed to stay seated for a bit until he felt confident enough to wander home after being given the rest of the day off. “There's no point trying to fix your ways now, is there?”

Chloé's grin was sharp. ” So, you're over the whole trying to fix me thing?”

“I never tried to fix you,” he pointed out. “It's not my fault that not everyone understands that you're joking. Sometimes, they probably think you're awful and being serious.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It's called weeding out the weak, Adrien.”

“Sure.” It was such a strange conversation, one that they'd had countless times growing up. It had started when either one of her parents would try and scold her, saying that she was being too harsh—but that had been before she'd discovered the wonders of swearing, and then Adrien had taken up the job of trying to soften her way of speaking. “You really don't have to stay with me, you know.”

Chloé looked at him as though he'd said something ridiculous. “I get that you're probably really embarrassed right now—”

“No?” Adrien interjected, furrowing his brow. “I'm just—I don't really get why you're here, that's all.”

“Why the fuck wouldn't I be?” Chloé demanded, and the harsh tone would've made him think he'd truly done something wrong if he didn't know her any better.

He licked his dry lips. “We're not exactly friends any more.”

Chloé crossed her arms, but that did little to cover the few bloodstains that had gotten onto her white-coloured shirt. “What's your point?” she snapped. “When you've literally saved my life, I'm not going to fuck off without making sure you're okay.”

The confirmation still made him feel shaky. “I—”

“Look,” she started, sitting up straight and putting her hand onto her thighs. “We haven't exactly gotten along for a while, but this—it's probably the best apology you could ever give, isn't it?”

Bewildered, Adrien could only say, “What?”

“Well,” Chloé began, tossing her long blonde-coloured hair over her shoulder. “No sorry will really compare to saving my life, right? I'll forgive you for ignoring me for so long due to that.”

An incredulous laugh left him. It was just—it was so _Chloé_. “Yes, I was clearly waiting for my time to swoop in and save your life. Absolutely.”

“I knew it.” She sniffed, raising her chin up haughtily. “Now, mind telling me why you're slumming it working in a dingy café?”

He cast a quick look to see whether anyone was close enough to the open door to hear her. “Chloé,” he hissed, disapproving. “You can't just say things like that!”

“Whatever.” She slumped back in her seat, looking utterly bored. “I wouldn't have stepped foot in here if it wasn't for you. I mean, do they even wipe their floor?”

“Yes, _I_ do,” he retorted. “Don't be mean to my workplace. My manager's been kind enough to let you back here when you were being so difficult just now. You can, at least, show a bit of kindness by not being a bitch to them.”

She scoffed. “There's the Adrien I know.”

“You don't have to stay here,” he repeated, not quite sure whether he was enjoying her company or not. Even if her body had changed in their time apart, it seemed that her personality hadn't; she was still blunt, didn't think about her harsh words before she said them, and definitely had no tact. “I'm fine, really.”

Chloé looked at him dubiously. “You're holding a rag to your bloody head because you're too stubborn to go to the hospital.”

“And you told your friend to fuck off on her birthday,” Adrien shot back, the tiredness of his body becoming apparent. “You're not exactly the shining example of a good person, you know.”

“I never claimed to be,” she pointed out, a smug smile curling on her lips. “Have you been stalking me?”

He stared. “What?”

“You mentioned my friend's birthday,” she said, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair and putting her chin in her open palm. “That sounds an awful lot like something you're not supposed to know.”

There was so much he could've said, but none of it was logical. He wasn't under the impression that he was suddenly clairvoyant, no matter how fascinating it sounded in fiction, not when he was vehemently trying to ignore just how similar his experience had been to the dream—the only difference was that Chloé hadn't been hit, and he'd never been beside her the whole time.

But what else could he say to that?

Adrien's voice came out kind of strangled as he replied, “Yes, of course. I scoured your accounts to find out where you were today, just so I could pull you out of the way of a car that ignored the traffic lights.”

“Okay, no need to be sarcastic,” Chloé muttered. “Thanks, anyway. You saving her probably beat my present of designer clothes.”

He snorted. “Sorry for upstaging you, but you didn't need to send her away, you know.”

Chloé shrugged. “I figured you wouldn't want a stranger hovering around you.”

It was oddly sweet. “Thanks,” he said quietly, pushing the hair away from his forehead. “You still do have a heart, I see.”

“It's a bit shrivelled,” she answered without missing a beat. “But when I'm with you, it's like someone's dumped it into a warm bath.”

The laughter left him easily. “You still remember that?”

“Of course.” Chloé's grin was wide, reaching her blue-coloured eyes. “It's the best confession I've ever given to date. It's just a shame that you never appreciated it.”

“Oh, I can definitely appreciate it now,” Adrien replied, his own smile matching hers. “It's—it's really good to see you, Chloé.”

Her expression softened, but there was no denying the smugness in her voice as she said, “Well, of course. I'm pretty awesome.”

He snorted. “And incredibly stuck up.”

“It's my best feature.”

Raising his eyebrows, Adrien questioned, “You've moved on from it being your appearance?”

“Nowadays, self-confidence is what I pride myself on,” she answered, primly putting one thigh on top of the other. “After all, if I don't meet someone that can love me as much as I love myself, what's the point of being in a relationship?”

It struck him that that, maybe, she had grown up a little. It may not have been in the way she spoke to others, or outright demanded things of strangers when she walked into shops, but it was her view of herself that had changed.

“Careful,” he said, adjusting his grip on the towel. “You're starting to sound old and wise.”

Chloé's grin grew. “Maybe just the second bit—you're the oldest one here.”

“Barely,” he replied with a laugh. “Eighteen doesn't really count as that old, you know.”

The pat she gave to his shoulder was mocking.

-x-

Chloé had insisted on paying for transport back to his home, but he managed to convince her not to come inside, or talk to his parents, which was a relief. She left after getting his new number, and he felt a little overwhelmed when he started to get messages that evening.

Even after everything that had happened—including the headache that he had—he still didn't want to believe it. And yet, he'd really pulled Chloé and her friend out of the way of an oncoming car, the same one that he'd dreamt had killed them the night before.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair with more force than necessary.

Rather than focusing on that, and going mad from the implications, Adrien turned up to work the next day, adamantly ignoring. The only thing that had changed in his life was the addition of Chloé trying to be his friend again (which was awkward in itself), and it was going to stay that way for a few weeks.

For a while, Adrien tentatively replied, not quite sure how to interact with her, but Chloé was insistent and continued to spam him with constant messages if he didn't reply in a short amount of time. He'd taken to telling her that he was at work, so he couldn't respond, and she continued to mock the workplace for how unsuitable she thought it was for him.

It made sense for her, at least. Her family, along with his, had certain expectations for everything; from maids that cleaned their large homes, to extravagant dinner parties where chefs were hired to make the food, their lives growing up were rather exaggerated and expensive, something that he hadn't quite understood until he made friends outside of his class-mates.

With his decision not to pursue his father's business—fashion, something he wasn't interested in—it resulted in an argument where he and his father were both too stubborn to come to an understanding. It was because of that that he'd taken up a summer job in the time before university started for him, trying to save up money due to the lack of support from his father.

It would've been easier if his mother was still there.

The day he was set to move into his dorm, the weekend before classes started, meant that he received a frosty good-bye from his father. The disapproval was clear on his face, but Adrien was just relieved that he didn't have to transport his possessions there by himself. The driver that had taken him to school each morning, and everywhere within the past year and a half, was the one to drive him, and the good-bye with him was a lot more emotional than than when he'd said good-bye to his father.

That was a bit hard to come to terms with.

After all his belongings were in his new room—one of four, of which they all had separate bathrooms and shared a combined kitchen and living room—Adrien came to the realisation that he was the first to arrive. It meant that he stayed in his room, searching aimlessly on the internet to entertain himself, and startling at any noise, assuming it to be one of his newest dorm-mates.

As it turned out, the next one to arrive came the following morning. Adrien felt a bit awkward as he stayed inside his room, listening to the noises, but once he heard laughter he thought it might be a good time to go outside and introduce himself.

“Hey,” he offered, awkwardly clearing his throat as he wandered into the kitchen. “I—I'm Adrien.”

The stutter was more than noticeable, but the wide smile he received showed that his nervousness wasn't off-putting. Nino readily introduced himself and his mother, and while his friendliness was a little overwhelming, Adrien was grateful that he hadn't been on the receiving end of a frown.

With dark-coloured curls and thick spectacles, Nino was an inch or so shorter than him—close to how tall Chloé had become—had a large grin, and an infectious laugh. He was easy to get along with, thankfully, and by the time their other dorm-mates moved in, Adrien could say that he preferred him the most.

The feeling was mutual, it seemed, as a knock came on his door an hour or so after Adrien had retreated back into his room, conscious that he was taking up too much room while everyone else wanted to but their belongings away.

“Hey, dude,” Nino said when the door was opened. He wasn't trying to enter, just hovering in the doorway and raising one hand to wave a little awkwardly. “I promised to help my girlfriend move in, and I wondered whether you want to come along? I mean, you don't have to—”

Surprised, Adrien blurted louder than necessary, “No, I'd love to!”

“Okay.” Nino's smile reached his eyes. “Most of her stuff's probably away now, so don't worry about having to do any heavy-lifting. I just want to meet who she's living with, really.”

The fear that he wouldn't befriend anyone in the building were decreasing slowly. “I was just thinking about hiding in my room until I got hungry, so it's no problem, really.”

Nino laughed. “Anyone you know here as well?”

“No,” he admitted, the hand in his pocket checking that he had the key to get back in. “No one that I know even applied to the same university. What about you?”

“Just Alya.” Then, at Adrien's curious look, he clarified, “My girlfriend.”

It wasn't as awkward as he feared. As with Nino, Alya was more than welcoming, inviting the two of them inside and ranting about any topic that popped into her head. He felt uncertain at first, not wanting to intrude on their conversation, but the two of them kept including him without a second thought.

By the time his stomach started to feel uncomfortable, meaning that he should probably venture back to his dorm to make some food, he'd put both of their numbers into his phone. Alya was adamant that he needed pictures to go with the contacts, which resulted in him having multiple in his phone that he would have to delete later, as Nino wanted to find the best ones.

Much like with him, Alya's dorm-mates hadn't arrived.

“Just have dinner here,” Alya said when they were sitting on the sofa, lifting one hand up to push her red-coloured hair over her shoulder. “What's the harm? My parents bought some random food that I shoved in the freezer, so I don't mind sharing that.”

Nino grinned. “You're a lifesaver.”

“No,” she denied with a laugh, reaching out and flicking the end of his nose teasingly. “I just know that you probably didn't even think about food.”

“Guilty,” he replied without missing a beat. “I've got enough to tide us over if we wanna gorge on takeaways for a while.”

She scrunched up her nose. “No, thanks. You're not going to be lazy like him, are you, Adrien?”

Whenever one of them invited him to chim in, it caught him off guard, even after they'd spent a few hours together. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting his feet. It was odd that he didn't have to take his shoes off at the front door, something he'd been told to do for all his life. “I haven't really had the chance to cook for myself, so I might be absolutely awful at it.”

“Doting parents?” Nino questioned, leaning his head back on the back of the sofa as he turned to look at him inquisitively.

Adrien felt that his smile didn't reach his eyes. “Something like that.”

That was about as tense as the evening got, which wasn't saying a lot. Alya opened a couple of bags and placed a selection of food into the oven—stuff that Adrien had never seen in his own home—and they chatted while it cooked, all of which was still surprising to him.

His plan of hiding away in his bedroom had definitely been ruined. The nerves he'd felt had practically deflated once he realised how genuine Nino was being, and with Alya living on the floor above theirs, there was a chance that he'd see more of her, too.

He just had to wonder whether the walls were thin or not—that was supposed to be a problem, wasn't it?

Maybe, he shouldn't have looked up common problems online.

A few days before classes started meant that he had a bit of time to get to know the people that he'd be living with. Other than Nino, he wasn't too keen on his flat-mates, and he was able to tell when they'd been around from the crumbs that were left on the countertops, along with the one time that a tap had been left on, as they'd forgotten about it and gone outside.

Chloé wasn't attending his university, or one in general, but she was still surprisingly present in his life. She wanted to be kept in the loop, tagging him in a picture when she saw a cat on the street, and outright demanded to come visit him when he was settled in (to which he was pleasantly surprised at; it would've been more like the Chloé he knew to just turn up when he was unprepared).

Their friendship wasn't perfect, and it probably never would be. It was tentative, day-by-day, and sometimes he wondered whether she was waiting to just stop talking to him out of the blue. Then again, they weren't trying to please their parents by pretending to be in love with each other any more, and they were both able to admit how idiotic that plan had been.

Although it had worked for a bit. Both of their parents had been overjoyed with the development, Chloé's father even saying that he'd been hoping for it to happen since they were young, and it had only fallen apart when they'd actually seen each other in person.

Chloé hadn't mentioned that, so it seemed that she wanted to forget that it had happened. It made sense to him, really, but he felt like he was toeing along the line of being rejected by her again if he were to bring it up.

Nino's first class was at the same time as his, so they agreed to walk the short distance to the university together.

Fretting a bit, Adrien checked his bag, trying to make sure that he had everything he needed, even brushing his teeth another time, worrying that he wasn't presentable enough. It was a load of silly worries, especially when he walked into the corridor between the four bedrooms to see Nino's messy hair that he'd hidden underneath a hat, but having a good appearance had been one of the important rules of growing up.

Well, that and making sure that his socks matched if they were visible.

“Alya's classes start tomorrow,” Nino offered as an explanation when Adrien asked where she was. He'd seen her twice since they'd met, and on both occasions she'd been just as nice as the first. “She kindly told me to fuck off so she could sleep in, too.”

He snickered. “Poor you.”

Adjusting the strap of his bag, Nino shook his head. “I'll just do the same on my day off. I can't believe I don't have any classes on that day, while she's completely busy.”

“Already tried to match up your schedules, then?”

“Of course,” Nino confirmed, not looking embarrassed at all, unlike how some of his friends had been before. Then again, he hadn't seen them for a few months, and, perhaps, they might've grown up a bit. “She likes writing both of our times down on a whiteboard so we can try and meet up around them.”

A bit wistfully, Adrien replied, “That sounds nice.”

“It is.” Nino's smile was wide.

They didn't have a similar taste in music, but the two of them played the same game online. When they found that out, their conversation became louder, more enthusiastic, and Adrien started to move his hands along with his words before he realised what he was doing, aware that his face felt a little hot as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Nothing really seemed out of place on the walk.

Well, it wasn't as if he _knew_. The area that he'd moved to was beyond walking distance, and even then, he would've wanted to move out so he wasn't in the stifling atmosphere of his home. He'd only explored a little after the interview, then when he'd been accepted to the university and managed to snag a dorm-room nearby, he'd just mapped out the nearest shops by using the internet, as he was busy working.

Adrien was checking in the passing windows to see whether there were any signs up, asking for part-timers, and he was wondering whether that would even still be used. He'd found his last job online, so there was a chance he'd have to do that again—

The air was knocked out of him as he was shoved to the ground.

Sounds surrounded him, but he couldn't identify them.

There was a throbbing on his face where it had scraped against the pavement, and he was a bit dizzy, meaning the noises seemed to be distorted as he tried to piece together what had happened. Adrien let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze as he put weight onto his knees, going slowly so he could figure out whether he was hurt or not, and was immediately thankful when Nino offered a hand out to help him up.

“What—” Adrien cut himself off, clearing his throat as he raised a hand to touch his face once he'd stood up fully.

“Dude.” Nino's eyes were wide, not quite focusing on him, but something behind instead.

Curious, Adrien turned, shocked to see that someone was standing up behind him. It was a girl, and it was clear that she'd been the one to push him—they were staring down at bloodied hands, and he was sure that his were much the same—but he didn't have time to ask any questions before she sucked in a breath and started to run away.

If would've chased after her to ask some questions if his gaze hadn't caught sight of the beam that was on the floor, a few inches from where she'd been.

“I—what?” he blurted, words making as much sense as his trail of thought.

The scaffolding above had seemed so innocent, something that he'd never glance at twice, but that hadn't been the case. There weren't any workers present on it, none staring over the edge in horror to witness the large piece of metal that had fallen down—

Roughly where he'd been standing.

But it was—it was impossible that she would've been able to push him aside in time, wasn't it? He and Nino hadn't noticed anything off, hadn't heard any noises to indicate that it was about to happen, and the fact that that could've hit him and seriously injured him made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

When he lifted his gaze up to meet Nino's, he bluntly announced, “I think I'm going to throw up.”

Nino didn't have anything to say to that.

So much for making a good first impression for his classes.

It was absolutely bizarre that in the space of two weeks, he'd saved someone's life—two, if he was being precise—and had been saved in turn.

After that had happened, he was quiet for most of the day, too aware of the scraps on his face and hands, all too self-conscious when his new class-mates questioned what had happened. They didn't know him well enough to earn the full story, and he definitely feel like telling, which meant that he breathed a sigh of relief when he checked his phone to see that Nino had messaged him, suggesting that they get lunch together.

He was absolutely okay with that.

Nino didn't mention it, but he had non-chalantly point out that he'd found out where the nurse's office was, just in case he ever needed it.

“Thanks,” Adrien answered, his cheek hurting when he smiled.

As Nino finished before him, Adrien took a detour on his way home, picking up some medical supplies from a nearby store. He'd forgotten to pack those, surprisingly, and the only plasters that were left were brightly-coloured ones, but they'd have to do.

To his utter surprise, he opened the door of the dorm to hear voices. Nino and Alya were in the kitchen, each holding a ridiculous mug in their hands—a set, matching ones that he couldn't quite identify from afar—with a first-aid kit sitting on the table in front of them.

“Hey!” Alya called, her curly hair seeming to bounce as she turned her head to look at him. “Come sit down so we can patch you up properly, yeah?”

A bit wide-eyed, his gaze flickered over to Nino in questioning.

Nino held up his one free hand in a sign of surrender. “There's no keeping secrets around here, man.”

He was oddly touched at that.

It was the last time that the accident, or lack thereof, was mentioned, but it did make him feel more comfortable with both of them. They'd actually cared about some scrapes, and Alya had gone out of her way and brought over her own first-aid kit from her room, all of which were things that he hadn't been expecting at all.

He was really starting to like them.

After Chloé had told him all about her day (the parts that she hadn't included in her messages while he was in class), she asked whether he'd managed to make friends. It wasn't that odd of a question; he'd felt incredibly awkward at his private school in the beginning, and hadn't befriended anyone for a couple of weeks, all the while he complained to her that something must've been wrong with him.

It made him laugh from how similar those thoughts were to the ones he'd had mere hours prior.

“I've made two, I think,” he revealed, eyes flickering to his bedroom door to make sure that it was closed.

He still wasn't sure how thin the walls were.

Rather than question him on that further, Chloé abruptly said, “Marinette goes to your university.”

He paused. “Am I supposed to recognise that name?”

The sigh that came through the other end was noisy. “Come on, Adrien. You can't be this bad at remembering names.”

“Fuck off,” he retorted without any heat. “You've been mentioning countless names for days, how am I supposed to just _know_?”

“Dude,” Chloé started, and he was dumbfounded that she was even saying _that_. It did sound sarcastic, however, so maybe that was why. “Are you seriously telling me that she hasn't approached you yet?”

It was his turn to sigh. “You don't have to tell your friends to talk to me, Chloé—”

“She needs to!” she countered, exasperation clear in her voice, and the rustling that was heard made it apparent that she'd slumped back on her bed. “I mean, you kind of saved her life, and that's usually a big deal in films and stuff. She's basically your lapdog now, right?”

There was a lot of things that he wanted to say, but all that came out was, “Oh.”

He'd never really put a face to the name. With the amount of people Chloé had mentioned, along with prattling on about her best friends that definitely hadn't been in her life years prior, it was hard to follow along with everything. So, he'd taken to just making affirmative noises at times, making it seem like he understood when he really didn't.

Perhaps, that might've been a bad idea.

“I don't even remember what she looks like,” Adrien reluctantly said when Chloé wasn't replying. “I was just—I haven't really looked on your accounts, other than the stuff you tag me in. I'm not really into all that.”

Chloé scoffed. “Okay, you recluse.”

“She really doesn't have to feel forced to thank me or anything,” he blurted, ears starting to feel warm. “I'd—I'd rather forget that it happened, really.”

“Yeah, no chance of that happening,” she replied, amused. “I might've already told my parents.”

Horrified, Adrien gasped out, “ _No_.”

“They're probably preparing a gift basket for you as we speak.”

Running a hand through his hair, he muttered, “I'm never telling you my address.”

“They'll just get it from your father, then.” The amusement was clear in her voice. “That'll be a fun conversation, right? Maybe you'll be the light of his life again—”

As much as he really didn't want to talk about his father, he decided to switch to another topic, one that he knew would grab her attention. “I almost died today,” he unceremoniously announced, the hollowness of his voice a bit startling. “I mean, kind of? It's hard to describe—”

Chloé's voice was high-pitched from incredulity as she exclaimed, “What the _fuck_?”

He bartered, “I'll tell you if you promise to call off the gift basket.”

“Fucking fine,” she grumbled. “This better not be because you stubbed your toe or something, because I will literally murder you myself.”

As always, how much she cared was hidden by the harsh words, and it made a grateful laugh escape. “More like a huge beam almost fell on me, but your story would've been much better.”

-x-

“I am _not_ psychic,” Adrien repeated, staring at himself in the mirror.

The water that he'd splashed onto his face was clinging to his hair, trailing down the end of his nose and feeling entirely uncomfortable, but he was too focused on the way his heart was beating fast, and the pallor of his skin.

Having one dream of someone dying and preventing it was crazy enough, but a second dream was something else entirely. He'd stumbled out of bed and promptly vomited into the toilet—still unsure whether Nino would hear him in the room beside him—not wanting to think of the implications.

It wasn't normal to remember almost everything about a dream, and definitely not one where he'd been looking at himself.

Well, that wasn't quite right. His gaze had been on himself across the courtyard at the university, indicating that the eyes he'd been seeing through hadn't been his own, and it was a little disconcerting to think that he'd just dreamed of staring at himself. If it had just left itself at that—just the staring—it would've been a lot better than how it had turned out.

It wasn't his own death that he saw that time; well, not his actual body's. The one that the dream had been from the point of view of had been sat on a bench, seemingly minding their own business and eating their lunch, and had slipped when standing up.

The flash of pain that he'd _felt_ at the back of his head was gone when he'd woken up.

Adrien reached up, gently moving his hair aside to try and find whether the wound he'd received from saving Chloé had healed properly, even though there was no pain there. He just—he wanted to check, to try and see whether he was really going mad.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, wiping the beads of water away from his face.

He didn't go back to sleep after that.

Alya met up with him outside to walk together, as their classes were at the same time. He wasn't as talkactive as usual, which wasn't surprising, but Alya was able to fill up most of the conversation by herself.

She was friendly, energetic, and not afraid to voice her opinion, which was something that he very much appreciated.

By the time they'd parted to go in different directions, she hadn't asked him what was wrong.

He tried to tell himself that it was silly, that nothing would happen, but—but that was what he'd said the last time, and then he'd acted on a silly instinct and managed to change what he'd seen. No one had been hit, thankfully, and he'd managed to get Chloé back in his life without any awkward apologies (other than her counting as the whole life-saving thing as the ultimate apology).

As much as he wanted to ignore it, he excused himself from his class-mates during their break, wandering around and trying to locate where he'd seen himself standing in the dream.

With a hand holding onto the strap of his bag too tightly, he was aware that his palms felt clammy when he found the area.

That was when he faltered.

They'd been too busy staring at him to really take in their surroundings. He had no clue where the exact bench they were sitting on was located, nor what they'd even look like.

“This is insane,” he muttered, shoes audibly dragging across the floor as he took a couple of steps to the side. His green-coloured eyes flickered around the open courtyard, but there were countless students there, none standing out to him, not really.

He wasn't psychic. He didn't predict deaths and swoop in to save them. It—it had been a fluke, that was all.

It wouldn't happen a second time. It couldn't.

With his gaze darting around, it was only when he caught sight of someone blatantly staring at him that he paused, noticing immediately that they had their lunch in from of them on the table.

He recognised that face.

It was a little hard not to after Chloé had made him check her photos, just to make sure that he'd know who she was in case she panicked and ran away before they could talk.

But what were the chances that it would be her that would be sitting in the rough area where he was looking? It was _insane_ —

Stiffly, sure that his impulsiveness was going to backfire in some way, Adrien closed the distance between them, coming to stand in front of her table.

Chloé's friend had been there for the first accident, and she was around for the second, staring right at him. As hard as that was to process—and it made him swallow thickly, seriously considering his mental state—it was a lot of coincidences that he didn't want to accept, not when it sounded so idiotic to say aloud.

“Hi,” he started, pausing to clear his throat. “Marinette, right?”

She didn't look that different to her pictures, not really. The ones that he'd seen hadn't used many filters, so her facial features weren't drastically different than what he'd seen online.

It was clear that she was shocked, her lips parting with no sound escaping before she pursed them, reaching for her bag and putting it on her lap.

If that wasn't an indication that she wanted to leave, he didn't know what would be. “Right, I—I'm Adrien,” he introduced himself awkwardly, reaching up to fiddle with his hair as he pushed it away from his forehead. “Chloé said that you wanted to talk to me about something?”

It wasn't the whole truth, but it was good enough. If she really was the one that he'd been dreaming as—such a ridiculous thing to even think about—then he'd already altered it by approaching her instead of watching from afar, right?

“Chloé?” It came out sounded a little strangled, but he didn't blame her.

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed, adjusting the weight he was putting on his feet. “You are Marinette, yes?”

He'd been far too busy with the pain of his head to really pay attention to her the first time they'd met. It was understandable, really, when she hadn't been tall enough to see above the crowd, unlike Chloé.

Her face looked pale, though. “I—yes,” she stuttered out, stiffly nodding her head. “I'm Marinette and—and _you're_ —”

It was unclear whether she was uncomfortable with him being there, or with anyone she didn't know in general, but there was no denying that everything about her body language, and even speech, was screaming out that she didn't want to be there talking to him.

It was a little hurtful.

“Sorry,” he interjected awkwardly, trying to spare her the nerves. “I've got to go to my class now.”

She didn't reply, but he wasn't really expecting her to.

Adrien offered a polite smile and took a step back, not sure how he'd break the news to Chloe that he'd made an awful impression to her friend. He was about to go about his day when a familiar scene played out.

When Marinette stood up hastily, the bag that she'd put on her lap had fallen down to the ground, and her foot had gotten caught on it. Adrien watched in horror, already moving forward in worry as there was no pause where she realised what she'd done. Instead, she started to fall backwards, hands flailing and trying to reach out for something to grab hold onto—

It was lucky that he managed to grasp onto her arm to stop her falling down fully. The bench had dug into her legs awkwardly from where she'd landed, and there had been a distinct sound of fabric ripping, all of which caused the two of them to stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted, backing away as if he'd been burned when it was clear that she wasn't going to fall again.

He wasn't sure whether he meant about the whole interaction or her sweater that he'd ripped.

The whole situation was hard to take in.

It was a confirmation as any that he'd seen through her eyes, wasn't it? Except, the events hadn't matched up to everything that he'd dreamed; he'd been the one to approach her rather than wandering off into the distance, but that hadn't changed the outcome for her.

And the fact that he was considering that at all was insane.

He was sure that his skin was just as pale as hers.

“I'm—bye,” Adrien rambled, sure that he looked as frazzled as he felt as he pushed his hair away from his face.

He didn't wait for an answer, but he hadn't really been expecting one.

It couldn't be just a coincidence. There was only so much that he could push aside and ignore, but two instances with the same person—within a short amount of time, only a little over a month since what was supposed to be a car crash—was absolutely baffling.

He didn't even know her. Before he'd checked Chloé's accounts that day, he'd never heard of Marinette before. From what he'd heard from Chloé, she'd met her a few months after they'd stopped talking, which meant there was no logical reason why he'd be dreaming of her at all, nor seeing from her point of view.

He felt nauseated.

They didn't know each other whatsoever, and yet, he'd caused her not to die two times. That was—it was just so hard to fathom.

If he hadn't recognised Chloé in the dream, what would've happened?

He would've found out about her death along Chloé's, but he probably would've never connected the dots. He hadn't even realised that he wasn't seeing from his own eyes the first time.

The dreams weren't very detailed; well, other than the actual actions and what was happening. He didn't know the time, as no clock had been within seeing distance, and Marinette had never spoke her plans aloud. It was luck that he'd recognised the crossing outside of his work, and the fact that the two of them went to the same university was just as coincidental.

When he messaged Chloé later that day, he didn't mention Marinette at all. He didn't bring it up to Alya or Nino, and he tried to put off thinking about it at all for a little while, attempting to come to terms with what had happened.

The corkboard that he had resting on his desk in his bedroom was finally put to use, however. He pinned two notes on it, detailing down the dreams and how he'd changed them.

When he was done, he turned it over so no one would see it when they walked inside his bedroom. It was only Nino that had been inside thus far, but he was already paranoid that he was having some kind of a break.

He put off going to sleep for as long as possible, even if it would sabotage his performance in classes the following day.

The dark marks beneath his eyes were a testament to his stubbornness.

“I am not mad,” he reassured himself, but the words were coming out hollow.

It wasn't normal, he knew that much. But there wasn't anything that he could do—it was two for two for the dreams, no denying that he'd altered the events that had happened, and that he hadn't been seeing through his eyes the whole time. But he—he just didn't understand _any_ of it.

Why would he be the only one to see the future? And only deaths at that, instead of something that could actually do good for the world, as in seeing major events (then again, the chances of him preventing them were abysmal, and would've made him feel worse when they happened even with his insight).

It was about Marinette, though. It had to have been.

The eyes he'd been seeing through were hers, both times, he was sure of that, at least.

They'd never met each other before, but the thought that a stranger had such an effect on his life was a little terrifying.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

-x-

As much as he'd talked himself up in the mirror to gain the confidence to approach her, when Adrien next saw Marinette, it wasn't of his own doing.

He was close to vomiting again, though.

It wasn't a friendly meeting, not one where he'd just smile at her from across the courtyard and attempt to strike up a conversation again. He hadn't seen her from a distance and walked towards her with a purpose, or tried to recall the particular lines that he might've rehearsed in his head, all in an attempt to try and befriend her.

Rather, it happened a bit more violently than that.

He'd just finished a job interview, nerves still apparent in his body as he walked outside, and had barely paid attention as he put his headphones on, finding a song to listen to.

He'd been aimlessly walking when he was roughly shoved aside. But unlike the last time, he didn't fall on the floor and injure his face; instead, he collided into the glass window of a salon, surely hard enough to leave bruises on his skin.

There was the distinct sound of something shattering, but he was too preoccupied trying to stand upright again to really acknowledge what it was. Turning his head quickly, ignoring the wave of nausea that coursed through him due to the swift action, Adrien was sure that his shock showed on his face when he saw who was standing beside him.

“I—” Adrien cut himself off, words disappearing when he looked behind to see what the source of the sound had been.

It was a shattered flowerpot. It looked innocent, really, with the mixture of mud, pot, and the depressing-looking flowers that were spread out

There was no doubt that it would've hit him on the head, but that wasn't what he was going to focus on.

“Marinette,” he started again, sure that his voice was showing how desperate he felt at that moment. He just—he wanted to know what was going on, including why his life seemed to feature so much potential death in the last two months.

But she wasn't in the same state of him as him, apparently.

Instead of responding to her name, she was standing there, staring down at the broken flowerpot with a dumbfounded expression, one that looked entirely foreign to her. Then again, it wasn't as though he had a good grasp on who she was; all he knew was that she was worthy enough to earn the title of Chloé's friend, and he knew the criteria for that was high.

He'd barely passed it in the beginning.

Softly, he called out, “Marinette?”

She still wasn't looking at him.

Her skin looked almost sickly compared to her dark-coloured hair, and her expression wasn't doing any favours for her. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he thought about how she was looking at the scene—because, surely, if she'd just happened to push him aside, she wouldn't have been so shaken up.

Taking a step towards her, Adrien wiped his clammy hands on his jeans as he asked, “How did you know?”

There was no reply, but he could clearly see that she'd started to rapidly blink.

He really didn't know how to feel at that moment. It was clear that she wasn't in any state to even reply to him properly, but he doubted that he'd be able to talk to her at any other time. Throughout the week, he hadn't caught sight of her at their university, but it wasn't as though he'd been searching through every crowd for her small form.

“Hey,” Adrien said, clearing his throat in an attempt to get her attention. “I-I'm very thankful that you saved me?”

It came out sounding like a question.

“I mean,” he started, nervously wetting his lips. “It was nice of you? I just... I don't see how you were able to have such quick reactions, that's all.”

Almost mechanically, her blank gaze turned to him.

It was as good as an answer that he was going to get, he guessed. “Do you—I'm not trying to be creepy, I swear, but do you want to get a drink or something? I'd like to thank you somehow.”

Of all the things he'd expected her to say, the first words that left her mouth were, “We're even now.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I—not really? I saved you from hitting your head on the bench, you know?”

A laugh escaped her, but it didn't sound honest. “No,” she started, gaze flickering away from his as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging some strands out of her braid in the process. “No, I—I pushed you before.”

“...Pardon?”

“Before, I—” Marinette cut herself off, taking in a much needed breath. It was shaky, clearly portraying how panicked she was coming across at that moment. “The beam.”

His throat felt tight.

“I think,” he started, voice coming out quite strangled. “I think we really need to talk, Marinette.”

It was barely a whisper as she agreed, “Yes.”

There wasn't any talking between them as they looked for somewhere to sit down. They'd rejected a nearby café as it was too busy, and the whole time as they talked, Adrien continued to sneak glances at her walking beside him, not quite believing what had happened.

Telling himself that he wasn't insane was something, but the new development was even more farfetched. What was he supposed to say when she'd managed to push him out of danger two times? And if it was anything like his dreams, he had to assume that the end of both of them had resulted in his death.

And wasn't that something to think hard about?

Having such good reflexes to save someone without any warning was rare, which meant that, surely, Marinette had had some kind of premonition the two times. He wasn't ready to believe that she just happened to have been looking in his direction, and managed to get there in time to make sure that he was safe.

It was unbelievable.

“Was it in your dreams?” he asked, breaking the silence as they continued down the street together.

Their shoulders hadn't touched, nor had she looked anywhere but straight ahead for the whole time.

“It was in mine,” he announced, fiddling with the end of his sleeves to give him something to do. “It was—it was so _weird_. I didn't even realise that it wasn't from my own eyes until the second time.”

She wasn't replying, but there was no mistaking that her eyebrows had pinched together in response to his words.

Nervously, he wetted his lips.

For once, there was someone that could understood. If he was assuming correctly, then she'd gone through the same experiences as him, but she, clearly, wasn't in the right sort of mood to actually converse with him. Perhaps, the reason that he'd been shunned in the courtyard had been because his decision to approach her had been different to the dream, and therefore surprised her.

“I thought that... I just, I expected things to be different when I saw you on the bench before? Because, in my dream, you were just staring at me from afar—”

“Stop.” It was a whisper, barely there, and if a vehicle had passed them, he wouldn't have heard it. “Please.”

It made him feel worse.

The thought that he was inconveniencing her hadn't crossed his mind. For him, them talking seemed like the only answer; after all, if they were dreaming of each other dying, that had to have been a good reason for that.

He swallowed the questions that he had.

The silence between them was stifling, but he kept his mouth shut. When he looked to the side, her expression looked pained, and that just made him feel all the more awkward, knowing that he was the reason that it was there in the first place.

The whole situation was surreal.

Eventually, they found a café that was somewhat desserted (a rare feat for the time of day). Adrien awkwardly offered to buy her a drink, mortified that his voice had cracked from how awkward he was feeling, and he was absolutely sure that he smile was overly eager when she just nodded, saying that anything hot was fine.

His hands were shaking from nerves, but he managed not to spill their drinks.

The table was small, built for two, and he readily sat down in the seat across from her. His knees jostled hers underneath the table—startling her—and he offered a quick apology as he scooted backwards, aware that his face felt a little hot.

There wasn't a good place to start. Adrien had tried on their way there, and as they were sat opposite each other, with Marinette absent-mindedly stirring her drink instead of looking at him, he chose to stay quiet, waiting for her to speak.

He'd taken a sip of his drink when she finally started with, “I don't know what's happening to me.”

Petulantly, he corrected her, “Us.”

She stopped stirring. “What?”

“Us,” Adrien reiterated, eyes flickering to the side to make sure no one was too close. “It's pretty much a two way thing, right?”

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, almost too quiet to hear. “I... I guess so, yes.”

At least she was actually conversing with him. “For me,” he started, deciding to try and share his side of the story as coherently as he could. “The dreams—I mean, I don't want to call them _visions_ —whatever they are, both of them have appeared the night before the actual event.”

When she put her spoon on the saucer, it was loud. “Mine, too.”

He hummed, not knowing how to reply to that. She was an unknown to him; all the things he'd heard had been from Chloé, and she usually described Marinette as a bright person, but he'd yet to see that for himself. Then again, it was the first time that they were casually spending time together (if it could be classed as that).

The end of summer had really turned his life around, somehow.

“I saw you...” Marinette trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing as she continued to stare down into her drink. “You were walking with your friend. I couldn't—it was like I was aware, but I couldn't change anything that was happening, you know? One minute I— _you_ were just walking down the road, and the next it felt like my chest was crushed and it went to black.”

It meant that she was having the same troubles as he; that it was hard to differentiate what was dreams and whatever they were both experiencing. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was able to remember what had happened when he woke up, Adrien wouldn't have thought anything was off with him.

The different voice didn't register with him, nor that the body wasn't his own. It hadn't really occurred to him that he could try and control what was happening—it was just so surreal to think about, and he was sure that he'd feel some panic if he was trapped in a body that wouldn't respond while he was unconscious.

Pushing his fringe away from his face, Adrien eloquently replied, “What the fuck is going on?”

A weak laugh escaped her. “I don't know.”

“Same.” He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. “But I—I guess I'm just happy that you're not dead.”

For the first time, she lifted her head up to look into his eyes. “You guess?”

A sheepish grin appeared. “Okay, bad word choice.”

“Just a bit,” she agreed.

-x-

After his last brush with death, he'd walked away with Marinette's number. They'd come to the agreement to warn each other if another dream appeared, and had taken to waving if they passed each other at their university, but they didn't actively seek each other out.

It was because of that that he was surprised when she turned up for his party.

Well, he was surprised that there was a party in the first place. He was bewildered when Nino told him to stay in his room for a bit since Alya was coming over to study for a while—to which he just scrunched his face up in response to—so when a knock back to his door, he'd stretched out his arms before crossing the tiny room to open it.

Chloé's smile was smug.

As it turned out, Nino had noticed that he mostly spoke to Chloé on social media, so he'd taken it upon himself to invite some of their friends to their apartment for a party of sorts.

Adrien was still bewildered when he was dragged out of his room into the kitchen to see everyone that had turned up. His other two dorm-mates were there, clearly not upset with the commotion, and he saw a few of his class-mates, ones that he'd mentioned to Chloé in passing, saying that he was a bit nervous about trying to befriend them further.

Either Chloé had passed that information on, or Nino knew more than he should've.

He hadn't been expecting a party, let alone anyone really celebrating that he'd turned nineteen. The cake was presented to him was small, clearly bought from the store and meant for children, but it made his chest feel warm as he smiled gratefully.

Marinette was there, too, mostly sticking to Chloé's side since he'd came into the kitchen. Whether she was shy or not, he wasn't sure, but Alya had taken it upon herself to flutter over and befriend everyone that she could, and that meant that when he crossed the room to talk to Marinette, Alya happened to be there.

“Hey,” he offered lamely, one hand clutching a cup while the other touched the back of his neck nervously. “I didn't think I'd see you here.”

“You two know each other?” Alya spoke up, wrapping her arm around Marinette's shoulder in an overly-friendly way. “You could've said!”

He blinked.

Marinette's face was a bit pink as she replied, “Hey.”

“We—she's Chloé's friend,” Adrien explained, pointing across the room to where Chloé was getting a refill, bringing the cup up to her face to sniff the contents. “So, we've met a few times.”

“That's great.” Alya beamed. “Marinette's in one of my classes.”

That was the extent of their conversation.

The following morning had him waking up to countless messages from Chloé. She was far too enthusiastic, while he had a pounding headache, but it was clear that she was just pleased that she'd managed to see him, his dorm, and meet his friends that he'd mentioned.

It was still strange that she was back in his life. In the past two months, he'd spoken to her more than his own father—to who he'd sent one message to, and received a curt reply that almost caused him to toss his phone across the room—and they seemed to be genuinely getting along, much like they'd done in the past.

He tried to hide his happy smile in his pillow.

It was some hours later that he was woken up by the sound of knocking on his door. With bleary eyes, he padded across the room, not quite sure what he was expecting.

Seeing no one in the hallway wasn't one of his guesses.

A bit bewildered, he reached up and rubbed his palms into his eyes, trying to force himself to wake up quicker. Then, as he'd started to yawn, a high-pitched noise came from in front of him.

It was distinctly not human.

Startled, his shoulder collided with the doorway, but it wasn't hard enough to bruise. Adrien regained his footing, gaze travelling downwards to where he saw what seemed to be an average-sized carrier with an obnoxious bow wrapped around it.

The nametag that was attached on top had his name on it.

Crouching down, he peered through the front to see what was inside.

He was greeted by that sound again, in addition to seeing a black-coloured blob from within the carrier. The lighting in the hallway was bad, but there was no mistaking that it was a cat staring back at him.

All he could muster up to say was, “What?”

There was laughter down the end of the hallway, and he jumped as he sat up, ears feeling hot as he saw Nino and Alya by the kitchen door, both of them holding up their phones (either for recording or pictures).

“You did want a cat, right?” Alya questioned, peering over her boyfriend's shoulder. “Because if not, I'm totally up for taking him back to my room. I'm sure no one would mind.”

He gaped.

“Well, he's not saying no,” Nino mused, pocketing his phone away and coming closer, until he was crouching down beside him, peering into the carrier. “We pitched in with Chloé to get you him.”

For all those years growing up, he'd asked for a pet of some sort, but he'd always been rejected. Whether it was because the animal would be too messy, if he wasn't trusted to actually take care of one on his own, or if his father didn't want one in their home—the reasons for saying no had built up over the years.

And yet, people he'd own known for almost two months had pitched in to get him one.

His throat felt a little tight from that.

A high-pitched noise came from within the carrier again, and it caused him to let out a shaky laugh. “Are we even allowed pets here?”

“Little ones,” Alya confirmed with a laugh. “Besides, if they say no the next time there's a room check, Chloé offered to take him in for you.”

Along with the carrier, he was gifted the other necessary belongings that he needed. Alya was more than happy to show him how much of each item to use, particularly the litter that had been bought, but his attention was mostly on the little black blob that had settled down on the pillows on his bed, not bolting and hiding away from everyone when he'd plodded out of the carrier.

Nino clapped him on the back, startling him, and said that they'd be over at Alya's place if he needed them.

And that was how he gained Plagg in his life.

When he first interacted with the kitten, he was terrified from how small he was, uncertain whether he'd hurt him, but Plagg had no qualms about climbing over anything he could (which happened to include the one curtain he had after he'd managed to jump onto the desk chair), prefering to explore instead of cowering in a curtain.

Whenever Adrien watched him, he was pretty sure that his smile was a bit dopey, just generally pleased with how everything had turned out. The party had already been a large surprise that he hadn't been expecting, and the fact that Chloé had spoken to his friends and agreed on such a wonderful present for him was still shocking to him.

He didn't waste any time in calling her, just to relay that to her.

“Consider it repayment for my life,” she casually replied, but he could hear that she was trying to hold back the smugness from her tone. “And the closest thing to an apology you'll ever get.”

He snorted. “You got me a cat to say sorry for ignoring me?”

“It was mutual ignoring,” Chloé pointed out. “Just give all your gooey affection to the cat and be a better parent than your shitty father. You'll do great.”

“His name's Plagg.”

The laughter that came through was genuine. “If you ever have kids, let someone else name them, okay?”

“I'll pretend you didn't say that.” He sniffed dramatically. “Are you serious about taking care of him if I get caught?”

“Look, I called up the owner and they said small pets are fine,” Chloé responded, sounding very matter-of-fact. “A kitten's as small as a cat gets, right? You can tell them to fuck off and get a ruler if they argue with you.”

It wasn't hard to believe that that was the extent of her research. “I don't think that's how it works.”

“Well, it is until they say otherwise,” she muttered. “I'm sure I can put up with your furball for a bit if you're idiotic enough to get caught.”

“Furball almost sounds like a term of endearment from you,” he mused, eyes flickering over to where Plagg was nestled upon his pillows. “Thank you, Chloé.”

There was a small pause until she mumbled, “Yeah, whatever.”

He didn't call her out on her embarrassment.

Although his room was small—definitely a lot smaller than the one he'd grown up in—Plagg was little himself, so he didn't feel too bad about keeping him inside. Adrien left the door to his bathroom propped open with a heavy book, so the litter tray could be accessed all the time, and had some newspapers by his wardrobe where he kept the newly acquired food and water bowls that he'd rushed out to purchase when he realised they were missing from the collection of items that he'd been given.

Plagg's first meal had been eaten from his only bowl, and he'd regretted it the next morning when he'd intended to have breakfast.

His other dorm-mates weren't too bothered by his new pet, saying as long as he didn't go into their rooms, they'd be fine with it.

Adrien beamed at that, pleased. He tried to keep Plagg in his bedroom most of the time, since he was too young and really didn't want to him to climb out of his window (it was lucky that it was close to winter, so his room wasn't too hot), and Plagg had only ran into the kitchen once where he'd immediately tried to scratch the sofa.

It was nice to have someone to give his attention to.

Rather than feeling suffocated in his bedroom, like he had been at home, it was a large change to remember to look out for someone other than himself. The first few days he continued to send pictures to Chloé, Nino, and Alya, showing the first time his cat did anything, and although he'd feared that he might annoy them a little with how often he was messaging them, none of them told him off—well, other than Chloé, but that hadn't been sincere.

Even if he was woken up in the early hours of the morning by Plagg playing around in his room, it was absolutely worth it.

-x-

With everything that was going on in his life, he'd tried to forget about the odd experience that he shared with Marinette. They'd only seen each other in the hallways at times, to which he felt almost nauseated about whenever he caught sight of her, and whenever he checked his messages on his cell phone in the mornings, he was always relieved that he hadn't received any from her.

Her name was only in his contact list.

Between spending time with his cat, doing his classwork, or convincing Nino and Alya to come into his bedroom so they could see Plagg for themselves, Adrien continued to try to find a job that was nearby and worked well around his classes. He'd had to reluctantly reject the first one that he'd been accepted for, as it didn't leave him enough time to focus on his classes.

It was near the end of November when he woke up with cold sweat covering his body.

Adrien panicked, moving so quickly that Plagg almost slid off of the bed due to his sudden change of position, and he hastily pressed a hand to the back of his head, conscious that there wasn't a pain present there.

“Not again,” he muttered once it became clear that nothing had happened to him.

And yet, he could remember it vividly; from the water that was cascading down his body, to the scent of the shampoo that he was rubbing into his hair. It was just a relief that his eyes had been closed, so he hadn't been able to see anything.

The hardest thing seemed to be trying to tell the difference of who he was supposed to be. He hadn't had any idea that something was wrong until his footing had slipped and his head had collided with the the wall behind him, the intense pain so sudden as blackness continued to be all that he could see.

But it had to be a death, right? He wouldn't dream about dying himself, and definitely not so vividly that he could remember it.

It had been weeks since the last one, and he hadn't been in contact with Marinette since. He'd kept it out of sight, out of mind, and was determined to just continue his life normally, attempting to forget that he'd predicted her death twice in the future (and had it returned).

Plagg's whining beside him had a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Sorry,” he apologised, slowly getting into the habit of talking to the feline, no longer feeling as awkward as he had the first few days.

Plagg was starting to respond to his name, and that made him happier than he could even say. He'd posted a video of Plagg on his social media making noises in response to every time his name was called, to which Chloé had demanded to visit the following weekend to see him.

She still called him furball, but any comments about getting fur on her clothing had no heat behind them.

Marinette answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

He cleared his throat. “I—hey,” he stuttered, unsure on how to start. “Did I wake you up?”

There was a rustling from the other end, and when she spoke, her voice was thick from sleep. “It's six in the morning.”

“That's a yes, then,” he mused, running a hand through his hair. “Just... I know this sounds weird, but don't shower today, okay?”

There was a beat of silence before she mumbled, “What?”

It was clear that she wasn't awake, but then again, she hadn't woken up abruptly with the phantom feeling of hitting her head hard enough to _die_. “I had another dream.”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, the shakiness of her voice not from just waking up. “And what, exactly, did you see?”

That's where he felt a little uncomfortable. “Not a lot,” he answered honestly. “You had your eyes closed, so I didn't even realise anything was happening, but considering what happened at the end, and that I still remember it well, I'm about ninety-nine percent certain that you might die today.”

As he'd avoided explicitly saying what had happened, he'd assumed that was why she'd grown quiet. To his surprise, instead of probing further, her reaction was to mutter, “Oh, fuck.”

He swallowed.

“You're a morning person, aren't you?”

The startled laugh that came from him had Plagg jumping in shock. “I—what?”

“It's too early for this,” Marinette replied, trailing off a little at the end. “Text me the details or whatever, okay? I haven't got class until midday and I'm going to fucking _sleep_.”

And with that, the call ended.

He stared down at the illuminated screen of his phone for longer than necessary. It was just—it was as ridiculous as being able to predict her death. It seemed like rather than being concerned that she could possibly die, she cared more about sleeping than learning the specific details.

If the situation was reserved, he was sure that he would've been nervous to go back to sleep. Goodness, after the second dream about her, he'd tried to avoid sleeping as much as possible, even though it wasn't his own death that he saw—it just felt that way, which was horrifying in itself.

As she'd requested—well, demanded—he sent all the details that he could. He couldn't narrow down where the shower was, whether it was at a gym or in her own home, nor the time of day, so the best he could do was tell her not to shower at all.

His dreams had all occurred the same day after he'd woken up, but it still worried him to think about it could apply the following day. There wasn't some guide that he could look up for advice, which meant that he was stuck with his instincts, all of which had him questioning everything.

The weeks of silence had been the longest without the dreams. He'd almost managed to convince himself that they'd gone, but—but that wasn't the case. He was still seeing through Marinette's eyes after the brief break, and the reason why that was happening at all was beyond it.

What reason could there actually be? There was no recorded evidence, or even a myth, of something seeing through another's eyes and experiencing their death in their dreams. It sounded like something out of a fiction, not his life.

He was only nineteen and dealing with enough as it was. His life at home wasn't normal by any means; in a span of a few years, it had rapidly changed to a cold atmosphere from his father being his remaining parent, and their clashing had caused a large rift between them.

The largest worry in his life should've been trying to find a part-time job, not fretting whether him or an acquaintance would die suddenly.

When he'd finished his classes for the day, he was surprised to see that he'd had a few missed calls in the past hour from the same number.

Nervously fiddling with his sleeve, he held the phone up to his ear as he waited to see whether she'd answer.

It was on the third ring that she did.

“Adrien!” Marinette exclaimed, sounding a lot more awake that she had nine hours prior. “I'm sorry if I—I came off rude earlier or anything, but I really do appreciate you telling me, you do know that, right? I shouldn't have been so—”

“It's fine,” he interrupted, a bit bemused by her rambling. It seemed like it was the most she'd ever said to him at once. “I'm sorry for waking you up so early, but I was kind of panicking.”

A small laugh sounded. “It's okay. I'm totally fine with being woken up if it's with life-saving information.”

Lips curling into a smile, he pointed out, “It didn't sound like that this morning.”

“I'm so sorry!” And the fact that she sounded mortified had him putting a hand over his mouth to try and muffle his laughter. “I'm absolutely horrible whenever I wake up. It wasn't personal, really.”

It was the most normal-sounding conversation they'd had. Maybe it was because they weren't able to actually see each other, and therefore he wasn't seeing the way that she adamantly avoided his eyes or shifted nervously.

He felt almost regretful when he had to put attention back to the demanding topic at hand. “Do you think... I mean, do you think it'll only last for today?”

He could hear her exhale. “I don't know.”

“You can't avoid showering forever,” Adrien pointed out quietly, swapping the hand that he was holding his phone in so he could get his keys out of his bag. “Are you living in a dorm or at home, by the way? Because if it's the first, I doubt you'll be able to find a bath to use.”

She asked, “What if I sit down?”

“Maybe,” he started, furrowing his brow. “Maybe wait until tomorrow, just to be safe.”

There was no telling whether it really would be safe, though. Sure, the deaths that they'd prevented before had almost happened, but the cause of them had been changed, hadn't they? The car had sped past, the beam had fallen, and the flowerpot had shattered—

But when she'd slipped by the bench, where she should've hit her head and died due to the impact, he'd been there to catch her. It hadn't repeated after that from what his knowledge.

“Have you slipped on the bench again?” Adrien questioned, shutting the front door to his dorm behind him, getting ready to try and stop Plagg from escaping into the hallway when he went into his bedroom.

“In the courtyard?” Marinette asked for clarification. “No, but I haven't sat down in the exact one again. I've been fine on all the others, though.”

There didn't answer whether there would be another repeat if she sat down in it again. However, he'd already predicted her death in a different way, so it would've been a bit ridiculous if they started to add up with multiple things that she needed to avoid each day. It wouldn't make sense with the pattern either; if she set to die due to the bench, the pattern would mean that he'd see it in his dream the night before, wouldn't it?

With a sigh, Adrien announced, “This is giving me a headache.”

Her voice was soft as she replied, “I really am thankful for you telling me, you know. It's not like you can come rushing in and save me like all the other times.”

Thinking back to the first time, his throat felt tight as he admitted, “I didn't even mean to save you the first time, though.”

“You didn't know I existed,” she pointed out. “I'm not mad about that, really. I was just as freaked out my first time, too. I just ran after pushing you out of the way, remember?”

The wounds that he'd gotten over time had all healed, but he still looked down at his palms. “Yeah.”

“I was pretty terrified that your friend would recognise me from that day,” she mused. “At your party, I mean. Alya's boyfriend.”

“Nino,” he confirmed, easily leaning down and picking up Plagg with one hand after he'd opened his door, earning a noise of protest from the feline. “Who knew we'd have so many friends in common.”

She snorted. “Two.”

Considering the amount of friends that he had, he repeated, “So many.”

Plagg's claws dug into his shirt, demanding attention while he tried to climb up onto his shoulder (which Adrien had let him to once, but it had resulted in Plagg almost falling off and leaving scratches on his skin), before Adrien shut the door and gently placed the cat down onto his bed.

Whenever Plagg willingly interacted with him—whether it was playing with his hair while he was trying to sleep, or darting across his desk and messing up the papers that he'd been looking at—it made his chest feel warm. The fondness he had for the feline had steadily grown with every passing day, and the loneliness had lessened from the constant attention.

“What's that noise?” she queried.

With a wide smile, Adrien replied, “My cat crying for attention.”

“Don't you live in a dorm?”

Maybe he shouldn't have been so open with the information. “Yes,” he admitted, rubbing Plagg's ears in the way he'd learned that he liked. “He's only little so I'm hoping to get away with it for a bit. Chloé's willing to take him in if the worse happens, though.”

“Wait,” she started, trailing off in what seemed to be in contemplation. “Is he black?”

Although he hadn't showed off pictures of Plagg to everyone, due to wanting to keep him to himself, that didn't mean that it wasn't possible that Alya had. “Yes?”

“Did Chloé buy him for you?”

That made sense, then. “Yeah,” he confirmed, grinning as he Plagg stretched out to be more comfortable. “Her and two others. Did Alya not tell you any of this?”

“We're not really that close,” she replied. “I just—Chloé sent me pictures of kittens before but she never told me what they were _for_. What the hell did you do for her to offer to actually look after a pet for you? She hates fur.”

“It might've been the whole saving her life thing, back when I didn't know it was about you,” Adrien pointed out, not ashamed of how confused he'd been—it wasn't as though he was much better after experiencing it for a couple of months. “Besides, I think she's pretty fond of him. She even let him on her lap before.”

Talking to her wasn't as awkward as he'd thought it would be. Sure, he couldn't tell whether her laughter was completely genuine, but the fact that they could continue on a conversation without a lot of pauses was a good thing, wasn't it?

She exhaled audibly. “She really missed you, you know.”

Adrien's hand stilled from where he was petting Plagg's side. “Chloé?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed quietly. “Her phone had a background of you two for months after we'd met, but she'd never say anything about you. I thought you were her boyfriend at first.”

It made him feel guilty, but they'd both ignored each other—it hadn't been one-sided. It had been immature and out of the blue, but it definitely wasn't just one of them being spiteful.

“I kind of was?” It came out sounding like a question. “I mean, yes. We fake-dated.”

The laugh that came from the other end was reassuring. “I did hear about that eventually, yes.”

It was strange, really. He had a few things in common with Marinette—Chloé, their university, shared almost-death experiences, and Alya—but he hadn't thought that they'd be able to be friends.

They spoke for over half an hour more, just talking about anything they wanted; classes, the cafeteria food that he wasn't too fond of, and she even admitted that she'd wanted pets growing up, but hadn't been able to, which had been much the same reason as him.

“You could come over and meet Plagg, if you want,” he offered awkwardly.

“I—really?” Marinette stuttered, sounding just as startled as he felt from the sudden question. “Are you sure?”

Looking down at the feline that was sleeping on his lap, his lips curled into a smile as he replied, “Gotta let him charm you so you keep our secret, right?”

“True,” she said through her laughter.

-x-

The day after he'd warned her about his dream, Marinette sent him a message saying that she was alive. As she'd said she'd do, she'd sat down on the floor for the entire duration—which was beyond annoying, according to her—but she assured him that she hadn't slipped.

It made him not sure how to feel.

He didn't want to work under the assumption that a day after when it was supposed to happen meant that the both of them were safe, but that had to have been the truth. Otherwise, another car crash would've happened before either of them had started to attend university together.

They started to text a little after that. It was polite, asking about each other's day, but it was a lot more than the blankness on his phone with her name attached to it. Instead, he found out which lessons she was in during the days where he had a break or a free period, and how different their schedules were when he was enjoying his free day.

To his surprise, he was able to get a job. It was being a waiter at a nearby restaurant, a ten minute walk away in a nearby shopping area, and the shifts were always in the evening, but he was relieved that he was given the chance at all.

His father had reluctantly paid for his education when he hadn't been able to qualify for a loan, but that didn't mean that they were on good terms at all. His father may have been paying for his rent, too, but Adrien was determined to pay for the little things by himself. His bank account was slowly draining from where he'd splurged and bought Plagg a bed that he'd been able to put on his desk, and the added cost of buying food for someone else, but it wasn't bad enough for him to go crawling back home and begging for money.

He was going to avoid that for as long as possible.

The job wasn't too hard, but it was different than what he'd known before. Along with the standard uniform, he had to wear a half-apron that was his responsibility to keep clean, and he'd almost forgotten it on his second day of work.

With the added work in the evenings, it didn't leave him much free time during the week. The first weekend that he had off, he just lazed around his bedroom with Plagg, happily opening the door when Alya came over to talk, as Nino was busy tweaking his project and wasn't giving her the attention that she claimed she required to function.

It also helped that Plagg seemed to lure his two friends into his bedroom often.

Although he spoke to the couple on a daily basis, he didn't text them often. His inbox was primarily all from Chloé, with the added new ones from Marinette had that appeared in the last week or so, but each and every one made him feel happy.

The worry about not making friends had definitely disappeared.

However, because of his busy schedule, he couldn't keep his word of introducing Marinette to his cat any time soon. It didn't seem like she minded, though; she continued to ask him how his day was going when he was in a class, waving when they passed each other, but it wasn't as though she went out of her way to approach him to strike up a conversation.

Not that he blamed her, really. He still felt awkward talking to people that he didn't know—which included his class-mates—and he wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to talk to him in the first place, not when he could still remember the way she'd avoided looking in his eyes.

As it turned out, their next meeting wasn't arranged.

Adrien slowly took off his headphones as he approached the restaurant, putting his bag on only one shoulder so he could put it away and get out his apron, hoping that it wasn't too creased. It was as he'd opened the zip and had been about to go through the back door into the building that he heard a call of his name.

Bewildered, he turned to the side, taking his hand away from the handle.

Marinette was down the alley with him, redness apparent in her cheeks as he ran up beside him. He could hear her laboured breaths, and the way that she seemed to slouch forward and put her hands on her thighs as she tried to regain her breathing was telling.

Of all the things he could've said, what came out was, “Did you run here?”

She wiped her fringe away from her face. “I—yes.” The words were breathy, confirming it. “You can't go in there.”

That caused him to pause. There'd be only one reason why she was telling him such a thing, but—

“...It's evening?” Adrien pointed out, but it came out as a question.

“I took a nap,” she defended herself, finally standing upright. It was almost the middle of December but she was there without a coat, wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. “You're gonna die if you go in there, Adrien.”

It was strange having someone say that to his face. “Oh.”

She ran a hand through her hair, looking frustrated. It was a lot better than the horrified expressions he'd seen before, but not as nice as the smalls miles he received in the halls. “I admit, I kind of panicked.”

Putting away his headphones meant that he had to take it out of his phone. Looking down at the device in confusion, he saw that he hadn't had any messages from her. “You could've just called me, you know.”

“I _panicked_ ,” Marinette reiterated, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn't clear whether it was for warmth or for her confidence. “I couldn't help but think, what if you didn't answer and it happened anyway? I'm just thankful that I know where you work.”

It was absolutely bizarre. His shift was set to start in five minutes, all of which he'd needed to get ready and wash his hands before he started, but there she was, telling him that it wouldn't be possible for the evening. She had listened to him about the shower, so why wouldn't he believe her?

“I might get fired,” he mused, his voice sounding flat. “What's supposed to happen?”

He could visibly see her take in a deep breath. “You... I don't want to say.”

“I need this job,” Adrien said, closing his bag and putting it back onto his back. “If you can tell me all the details, I might be able to make it through my shift by avoiding it—”

Marinette shook her head, almost frantically. “It could happen at any time!”

As much as she sympathised with her—after all, he'd experienced her deaths and the pain that had come with them before he'd woken up—there was still the matter that he needed the job. “Okay, but maybe tell me what _it_ is.”

She was staring down at her feet, not looking him in the eyes again.

“Please,” Adrien added on, hoping that it would help.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “While clearing a table, you slip and the cutlery impales you in the neck.”

It wasn't something he heard every day. “I see,” he settled with saying, not knowing how to feel about that. “...Any chance you can tell me whether I need to avoid knives or forks for the evening?”

When she opened them again, she was gazing up at him with an expression that could only be described as annoyed. “I don't know,” Marinette started, her voice portraying the same emotion. “I was too busy choking on blood to figure that out, sorry.”

He couldn't resist correcting her with, “My blood.”

“That's not the point!” And to his surprise, she threw her hands up in exasperation with her words. “If you—if you go in there, you're going to die, Adrien!”

Maybe it was just his way of avoiding serious situations by trying to distract himself with humour. He'd been that way for years, and told that it was inappropriate, especially at funerals, but it was his way of dealing with things. Clearly, from Marinette's reaction, it was still as unappreciated as ever.

“Okay,” he agreed, taking out his phone. “I'll call in sick for today, okay? And if I get fired, I'm absolutely going to blame you for it.”

She didn't even argue with him on that.

Rather than standing outside the employee entrance for the phonecall, with a tilt of his head to indicate that they should move, Adrien tried to find a nearby place that wasn't too loud with the sound of the road.

It wasn't clear whether he was fired or not from the end of the call, but they agreed to let him have the night off.

“Well, that's done,” he announced as he put his phone away. With a glance to the side, he confirmed that she was still hugging her chest, visibly cold from the lack of jacket. “Do you live near here?”

She pursed her lips. “Kind of.”

It became clear that he lived closer, though. Adrien quickly offered for her to come inside and warm up, and perhaps borrow a jacket to make her way home, and she was all too happy to comply and come along.

The walk was quiet, the two of them not quite in the mood to make small talk, and it was only as they were walking up the stairs to his floor that it occurred to him that something wasn't right.

“How did you know what time my shift was tonight?”

She almost lost her footing on the last step. “What?”

“I've never told you my times,” Adrien pointed out, turning his head to look at her curiously. It wasn't as though they were close enough for him to tell her all of that; the most she knew was the location, as he'd been so excited when he'd been accepted. “And yet, you came running to stop me.”

The redness of her face was surely from the cold. “Chloé,” she muttered.

Incredulously, he questioned, “You asked Chloé instead of just calling me?”

“I was worried,” she admitted, hand rubbing her elbow as they started to walk towards his door. “I just—I wanted to make sure for myself, okay? Chloé wasn't too difficult about it.”

He hummed as he fished his keys out. “Does she still want us to be friends?”

To his surprise, the reply he received was, “Are we not?”

“Oh,” he couldn't help but murmur softly. “I... I don't know, really? It's not like we've got a conventional start to knowing each other, unlike everyone else.”

It was as they were going into his hallway that she said, “I'd like to be your friend.”

The smile he gave her reached his eyes. “Okay,” Adrien replied, not sure what else he was supposed to say. “Does this mean I can ask you other things than how your day's been whenever you text me in class?”

A laugh escaped her. “Of course.”

“Okay,” he agreed, wondering whether it always felt that easy to make friends with someone. It had been so fast with Nino and Alya, but then again, he did have to live with one of them, and they were a package deal. “I try and keep Plagg in my room, so be prepared that he might try and make an escape to explore.”

She held her hands up and wiggled them. “I'm ready to try and catch him.”

Plagg behaved, for once. He was busy sleeping on his bed when they entered the room, but woke up from the noise, making a high-pitched sound in response to their entrance. Marinette was immediately walking across the room to introduce herself, happily getting down on her knees and resting her elbows on the edge of his bed as she sat beside him, talking quietly and exclaiming about how little the feline was.

It made his smile grow.

Marinette was more than pleased when he agreed that she could send pictures of her and Plagg to Chloé. With the additional presence of his cat, the atmosphere livened up, and he only excused himself briefly to get her a hot drink from the kitchen.

The highlight of the evening was when he updated the corkboard that he had on his desk, adding the new event along the timeline. From her obvious surprise, it seemed that she hadn't thought of recording everything down.

“I've only been writing down the accidents, not the dates and everything,” she admitted, crossing the room to stand beside him, finger trailing along the papers he'd pinned on there to take in all the information. “There's not much of a pattern, is there?”

There wasn't. There was no consistent time between all of them—not on the same day, or times apart—but there was one distinct bit that stood out compared to all the rest.

“This one's different,” Adrien observed, using his index finger to point to the second-to-last event, the one where she'd been set to die from slipping over in the shower. “It's a lot longer than the other ones, see?”

She squinted. “I guess.”

“But all the others are a lot shorter, even with their random times,” he continued, indicating to the almost two week timespan between the last two. “Any idea what we did differently there?”

The silence wasn't stifling as they both thought; instead, it was filled with Plagg playing with a toy in the background, the sound of his purring and occasional noises making the atmosphere less depressing that it would've been usually.

“The only thing I can think of is that you called me,” Marinette said after a few minutes had passed. She perched herself on the edge of his bed, using both hands to cradle the mug that he'd given her almost half an hour ago. It couldn't have been hot after that time. “Instead of actually being there to stop me, like the others. And I've always come to see you in person.”

It was the only thing he could think of, too. “Okay,” he said, breathing out loudly as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. “I'm going to give you a special ringtone for the future, then.”

“...It should be my turn next, though.”

“You should do the same,” Adrien pointed out. “Make it something super obnoxious, maybe even embarrassing so you rush to make it stop ringing.”

Nodding, Marinette got out her phone. The cover she had on it was cute; the cat ears on top were a lot better than the boring one that he had. “Promise to only call me if it's an emergency? I don't want to have a panic attack when you're just bored.”

“I promise to only call you about the future,” he vowed.

“That sounds too ambiguous.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I mean—you can text me all you want, okay? But I'm only changing your ringtone.”

He pocketed his phone after selecting a loud song to act as her sound. “I won't break the bad news to you with a message,” Adrien promised, smiling when her eyes flickered away from her phone to look at him. “That would be such a dick move. So much worse than breaking up over text, right?”

And when she laughed, it was nice to see it in person; from the way her eyes almost seemed to close from her wide smile, to the sound of it, it was completely different to just hearing it over the phone. “Please don't break my heart without actually talking to me.”

“Can you imagine if someone saw your phone, and it just said how you'd be murdered without any explanation?” he mused.

Her eyes really did close as she laughed that time. “I really don't want to deal with that, thank you.”

“Yeah, let's stick to having manners,” he agreed, his grin matching hers. “I'll be sure to ask about your day before warning you away from suspicious alleyways.”

“How kind.”

-x-

The next time he had to call Marinette, it was during winter break.

He'd already decided not to go home—not when it would result in arguments, and he didn't want to pawn Plagg off to someone else to look after—so, for the first time, he celebrated it alone. Well, as alone as he could be with a cat by his side, which made his mood brighten whenever Plagg interacted with him.

Nino and Alya had gone home to visit their families, along with his other dorm-mates, and Marinette had told him that she had, too.

They'd started texting a lot more after she'd saved him from entering the restaurant, and he'd slowly learned more about her. Other than being incredibly grumpy in the mornings, he'd found out her favourite drinks, television shows, and that they both had a similar taste in music. It made it a lot easier to text between them, especially in the evenings, where he was bored and just lounging around his room.

He didn't tell anyone that he wasn't going home.

The situation with his father wasn't anything he wanted to tell anyone, even if they were close. He was sure that Chloé had learned through her parents what had happened—with them being family friends—but she was smart enough not to bring it up, thankfully.

With the extra money from his job, he had the dumb idea to order a holiday-themed hat to put on Plagg. To his surprise, it arrived before the new year, and it turned out that Plagg was completely fine with being manhandled as long as he was being pet in the process.

The ridiculous hat definitely made him laugh until he had tears in his eyes.

He didn't wake up from a nap in the afternoon with cold sweat. It was in the morning, as with all his others, and the first thing he did was push Plagg aside so he wouldn't squash him while reaching to his bedside drawer for his phone.

Marinette answered on the fifth ring. “Adrien?”

The voice crack reminded him to clear his own throat. “Yeah, hey. I come bearing great news.”

“Seasons greetings and all that,” she replied lazily, the sleepiness clear in her voice. “It's, like, five in the morning. What are you—wait, that was a dumb question.”

“Very dumb,” he agreed with a quiet laugh. There wasn't any light coming in through his window, and his screen had faded to black once more. He closed his eyes, not noticing much difference, as he replied, “Are you planning to go to a nightclub or something? There was flashing lights and stuff, so that's all I can really think of.”

She hummed. “I think so? Chloé wanted to take me out so we could do the countdown to midnight together.”

“Looks like that's cancelled, then,” Adrien revealed with a sigh. “You fell over the railings by some stairs. It was a pretty big fall.”

With a sigh, Marinette asked, “Why is it always tripping over? No one's clumsy enough to almost die all these times, surely. This is getting ridiculous.”

He'd wondered that, too, but saying it aloud was something else. “I don't know,” he confessed, feeling helpless and small. What _could_ they do when they didn't even know why any of it was happening? “If it helps, I've tried searching countless things, but I don't think anyone else is experiencing this.”

“I don't really want to prove it to someone else either,” she muttered. “I—thank you. For telling me, I mean.”

“Of course,” he answered with a yawn. “Sorry about spoiling your evening.”

She snorted. “I'm sure I can avoid leaving my house for the day. I'll use the trusty illness excuse. It worked well enough for your job.”

“Because they don't really know me,” he pointed out. “If you keep predicting death at my job, I might have to look for a job elsewhere. It'll look _awful_ if I get fired for my attendance.”

When midnight rolled around, he got messages from four people. He'd stayed up watching a cheesy animated show with Plagg on his lap, and when he realised that his phone was buzzing, the large smile that appeared on his lips was because he considered every one of them a friend.

It was four whole friends than he'd had months ago.

Even if the predictions were awful—felt terrible, and made him nauseated more often than not—it had caused some of the best things to happen in his life. He doubted that without them, he would've ended up with Plagg, and he definitely wouldn't have reconciled with Chloé.

As she'd said, no apology quite matched up to saving her life.

He was worried that he was getting desensitised to death, though. He hadn't had to calm himself down much, nor had he been close to vomiting from the sensations—the pain always disappeared in an instant when he woke up, but that didn't mean he couldn't recall it with the same clarity that appeared with the rest of the dream.

The corkboard was updated again a week later.

“Seriously?” he groaned, not quite believing her words.

“Seriously,” Marinette confirmed, amusement clear in her voice. “Did you really think it would be a good idea? It's like you're begging fate to just murder you already.”

He grumbled, “I only wanted to go ice skating, okay?”

“Yeah, well, unless you want a blade in your head, you might not want to go.”

With a sigh, he stood up from the chair at his desk to fetch the corkboard. Marinette had slept late, calling him barely half an hour before he was supposed to go with Nino and Alya. It was day they were coming back to the dorms after the holiday, and he'd been excited to spend some time with them again, even though he wasn't particularly talented at the activity.

Adrien sighed. “Now I don't have anything to do.”

“Nothing at all?” she questioned as he pinned the new sheet on paper onto his make-shift timeline.

“Not really,” he replied, sitting on the edge of his bed as he stared at the papers. “I've been cooped up in here for a couple of days because of the snow, so I might be going a bit stir crazy.”

Marinette started to say, “You could—”

“Marinette,” he interrupted, voice a bit loud from the sudden realisation. “Are you keeping track of the dates of our accidents at all?”

She scoffed. “I can't list them off of the top of my head, no.”

“They're getting shorter,” he whispered. “What—what are we doing wrong here?”

It wasn't as though they'd actually know, though. There was no telling whether it was their actions as what was influencing what was happening, or whether it was all coincidence. Regardless, it was fact that no one else had as many brushes with death as the two of them did, and he was absolutely certain that if they tried to explain it to anyone, they'd just be branded as insane.

He wouldn't have believed it if anyone told him that either.

“But we've been talking.” She sounded uncertain. “Like we said we would, right?”

There had to have been a difference. Between when they'd agreed to call to warn each other, the two accidents had been within a shorter distance, slowly decreasing until it was the shortest one yet.

“I don't think calling each other is the solution,” he muttered.

It wasn't as though it had made it so they were able to avoid it all together; if anything, the longest that they'd gone without death predictions had been when she'd panicked and ran to his work.

Adrien straightened up. “Wait.”

“I never stopped waiting,” Marinette pointed out, trying to inject some humour in the situation.

It made him a little better that she'd started to show that she could react to things in the same way as him.

Tentatively, he started to say, “This might seem a little mad—”

“Everything about this is mad, Adrien.”

“Don't interrupt me when I'm trying to sound sane,” he retorted without any heat. “I haven't really got this all recorded down, but if I'm remembering right, then the dates on my board might be able to back up my idea.”

She made a contemplative noise. “How about you actually get around to telling me it, then?”

There was a large difference in how they were talking to each other, even though they kept their calls to a minimum. It helped that they constantly messaged each other randomly throughout the days, meaning that he knew what made her laugh, how her typing changed when her mood shifted, and it seemed to translate well into when they were actually talking to each other, too.

“I don't work well under pressure.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she quipped, “I'm sure that's not in your résumé.”

“Thank you for that, jobless.” He sniffed. “Now, if you'll let me speak, I think we actually have to spend time together?”

There was a pause before she asked, “ _Have_ to?”

“I think so?” It came out sounding like a question. “I mean, the times between predictions seem to be... I think it's larger after we've seen each other in person? After that day that you came round to see Plagg, that's been the longest without a potential death for either of us.”

It sounded bizarre, but not as crazy as the rest of his life. A couple of months ago, his main concern had been wondering whether he could actually fend for himself before he'd reluctantly agreed to let his father pay for his education.

“So you're saying,” Marinette started slowly, drawing out the last vowel for a while, “I have to spend time with you if I want to live?”

The way she'd phrased it made him laugh. “Marinette!” he scolded, but his voice shook from his amusement. “Don't make me sound like a villain. This isn't my fault.”

“Sorry.” She didn't sound sincere. “That's pretty good timing, though. I was going to ask if you want to do anything, since you can't go ice skating.”

Surprised, all he could ask was, “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed. “I was going to ask before you told me I'd probably die if I don't spend time with you, so you should feel blessed.”

With the excuse that he'd forgotten that he'd already made prior plans, Nino was let down easily when he said he couldn't come. An hour or so later, past midday, Marinette proposed that they go to a café together and talk.

Unlike the last time they were in a café together, it wasn't tense. Marinette hadn't been in a rush and forgotten to wear a coat, then she said that she'd go to buy the first drinks with the offer that he could get the second lot—a sure sign that she was committed to spending time with him—and she repeatedly met his eyes while they were talking.

Hers were blue.

When his knees bumped against hers underneath the table, he wasn't immediately apologising for his fumble, and when he ended up laughing while trying to drink, which resulted in him choking, he wasn't sure whether his face felt hot from his coughing or the hand that she'd placed on his arm after patting his back, trying to help him recover.

They were definitely friends, that was easy to confirm. When he purposely made a pun, one that would've made Chloé roll her eyes and ignore him until she gave in and changed the subject, Marinette snorted and tried to hide her amusement, even covering her mouth with her hand to cover her smile once or twice.

After two drinks each, and a plethora of snacks that he'd bought for the two of them when his stomach rumbled, they left the café with plans to meet up in the future.

He wanted to think that she would've agreed even without their theory.

There was one free day left before university started again, but as he had to work in the evening, Marinette came over to his dorm for lunch. He gave in to her pleads to bring Plagg into the kitchen, only because the door to the kitchen was heavy and wouldn't be left open, and sat on a stool playing with Plagg on the countertop as she cooked.

It was definitely sweet that she'd just come over with ingredients in a plastic bag, asking to use his kitchen. She'd looked so uncertain, as though she was expecting him to say _no_ , and that had caused him to smile widely.

When they'd started to eat—with him only having only had two mouthfuls—the door opened to reveal Alya bringing in an overstuffed plastic bag of groceries. She hadn't cast a glance at them, too busy bringing the bag along to where Nino's cupboard was, and it was only when Plagg made a noise that she realised they were there at all.

Alya's grin grew as her gaze flickered between him and Marinette.

Nino came in soon after that. When the time came for Adrien to leave for work, Marinette was still in his apartment, happily talking to his two friends (that wasn't quite right—she was somewhat friends with Alya, but it seemed from that afternoon, Nino got along well with her).

Everyone protested when he said he had to put Plagg back into his bedroom for safety. He wasn't comfortable with his cat being out of his room whenever he went out—thinking about him escaping made him incredibly nervous, especially if anyone else found out in the building.

Sometimes, he wondered whether he would've had the courage to get a banned pet if his life hadn't taken the direction that it had.

-x-

Spending time with Marinette wasn't a chore.

Although their times didn't match up for classes, and their dorms were in different directions, Adrien had proposed that they could do their work together, just so it wouldn't get in the way. At first, they'd tried to do it in his room one day after classes had ended—but before he had to go to work—but his desk wasn't big enough for two people, and he didn't have a second chair. Therefore, she'd put her papers down on his bed, but it had caused Plagg to play with them, distracting her in a process.

“Not my room, then,” he lamented when they realised how little work they'd gotten done.

Marinette just grinned at him.

As much as he'd liked to go to a café together daily, he didn't have that kind of money. They could've used his kitchen, but that would've meant his dorm-mates would've come in to talk, distracting them slightly less than Plagg, so that option was out, too.

Marinette's room wasn't much bigger than his, but it didn't have a cat. The dorms in her building were three bedrooms per apartment, instead of four like his, but it meant that there was an actual table in the kitchen, rather than countertops and stools. It wasn't much of a trade off, but it it worked.

The arrangement meant that he had to walk back to his room, get his laptop, and then travel in the opposite direction to get to Marinette's, which almost took half an hour in total. Still, it wasn't all bad. They weren't studying the same subjects at all, but he was more than happy to hear her rant on about how frustrating her topics were whenever she sighed a bit too loudly, catching his attention.

Sometimes, they did go to a café to have a break, just talking.

Although it meant that he was spending less time with Plagg—to which he felt a little guilty about, but Nino was more than happy to go into his room and feed him—if it meant that he wasn't going to potentially face death again, he was fine with it.

It helped that Nino and Alya were happy to spend time with the two of them, making their make-shift group an even number when they went to the cinema once.

It was over a month before the next prediction appeared.

“Are you serious?” Marinette exclaimed, her voice causing him to flinch from how loud it was. “I— _no_.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, but you're really going to die if you go on a bus today.”

“This is bullshit!”

“You can go see Chloé a different way,” he pointed out. “Maybe the train? Or you can cancel and suffer her wrath—oh, that might not be the best option.”

With their increased time spent together, every single day since they'd decided to test their theory, it meant that their other friends were aware of their budding friendship. Because of that, Chloé had been overjoyed that they'd started to get along, but was very vocal that she was jealous that she wasn't there.

Chloé had decided to go on holiday with her parents to escape the cold weather, which meant that she hadn't been around a week after their arrangement had started. It was the day after that she'd returned that Adrien had woken up, startled and almost hit his head on the wall behind him when he sat up too quickly.

Marinette grumbled, “And here I thought we might've finally figured this all out.”

It definitely was disappointing, but all Adrien could say was, “Sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” she replied with an audible sigh. “Do you want to test out not seeing each other for a bit?”

Even though it was what they'd agreed on, it would be a change from the routine that they'd built up. “Okay,” he agreed, a bit reluctant.

“It'll be a bit weird,” she mused.

Adrien grinned as he announced, “You can just admit that you like spending time with me, you know.”

The laughter that came through was definitely genuine. “You're a dork.”

“I'm taking that as a yes.”

No one really asked why he wasn't with her after classes. He mostly stayed shut in his bedroom, playing with Plagg and making up for the time he'd spent apart from him, so it was just before his shift at work when anyone realised he was there to begin with.

He met up with Chloé at the weekend, ending up playing cards with Alya for hours on end, and watched bad films with Nino until there was a fire alarm in the building. Thankfully, it was a test, but it had scared Adrien out of his mind when he had to wonder how he'd be able to smuggle Plagg out of the building.

It wasn't as though his pet was _quiet_.

The thin walls meant that he could hear all that was going on around him, particularly when someone showered late, which translated to them hearing Plagg being loud and demanding food in the mornings. It was just lucky that they were still okay with him being there, thankfully.

A week later brought bad news.

It was in the form of a room inspection for everyone throughout the day, and that panicked him enough as it was. He quickly tidied away Plagg's toys, placing his cat in Nino's room while he hoovered before they swapped again, and stared at his phone to try and see who he could ask to take Plagg in for him.

It was as he was staring at his pitiful contact list that a call came through.

“Marinette,” he answered immediately, relieved. “This is such good timing—”

“You—”

Before she could get more than a word in, he hurriedly continued on to ask, “Are you free today? I really need your help. If you don't, I might get kicked out, I'm not really sure.”

Her voice was loud as she exclaimed, “You can't go outside!”

“Oh.” It hadn't crossed his mind that there was actually a reason for her call. They strictly messaged each other only, reserving talking on the phone for life-threatening situations—in his rush, he'd been more concerned about his pet. “That's a bit of a bummer. Do you think you can come over here?”

It was almost worrying how normal he felt when he was told that he might die.

Perhaps she felt the same because she spluttered, “What?”

“What?” he echoed back, confused about her reaction.

Marinette quietly asked, “You don't want to know what's going to happen?”

“Death, right?” His lips curled into a half-hearted smile, finding some twisted amusement in that. “The usual, you know? I don't really care about that right now—you're literally my only hope and I really need to you to hide my cat for a day.”

“But we're not supposed to see—”

Getting the carrier out of his wardrobe—where he'd had to put his shoes inside to try and make everything fit—Adrien pointed out, “Well, that didn't really work, did it? There's an inspection today and I really need you to take him, please.”

“Okay, okay,” she hastily agreed. “Just—don't go outside, okay? There's gonna be a storm.”

And as she hung up, he had to wonder what the possibilities could've been. There was an ongoing trend of falling over being the cause of death, so that was the one that he was going to go with. Marinette hadn't said whether it would be on the stairs going down to greet her, though, so he stayed put in his room, trying to coax Plagg into the carrier to get him ready to leave.

She didn't stay for long, but that was mostly because he was pushing her away frantically, saying he didn't know when they'd get to his room.

When she saw that he'd emptied the litter tray, placed it on his desk and put some blank papers on it, she didn't even try to hide her amusement.

“I'll smuggle your cat for you,” she agreed as she inspected the carrier. “Do you have a blanket or anything? I can claim it's some obscure art project that I don't want anyone to see.”

As he started looking underneath his bed for something big enough to drape over it—as the blanket he'd bought Plagg definitely wasn't, and he'd already put that inside the carrier—he had to point out, “He's probably going to make noise.”

“It's battery-powered.”

He snorted. “Good project.”

In the end, she left with a spare sheet covering the carrier. It looked ridiculous, dragged along the floor a little, but it was the best that they could do. Adrien thanked her profusely as he walked to the stairs with her, and when she disappeared down the bottom, he only just remembered that he'd forgotten to ask for his potential cause of death.

Along with pictures of Plagg refusing to come out of his carrier on her floor, Marinette kindly informed him that he was set to be struck by lightning if he went outside.

It started raining an hour after that.

The inspection went fine, though. Someone on the floor above him was found with drugs in their room, but that was about it. He didn't know what he was worrying so much for; they barely spared a glance after checking that his room wasn't completely damaged, and hadn't even questioned him about anything. All that was asked was for him to stand outside while it was in progress.

“I feel like I could've just hidden him in my wardrobe the whole time,” he muttered when he let her into his room the following day.

She pulled off the sheet with a dramatic flourish. “You would've been caught in seconds. Stop sulking because he might love me more now.”

He shot her a pointed look. “Stop trying to bribe him.”

“Giving him fish isn't a bribe,” Marinette defended herself, tucking some loose hairs behind her ear. “Besides, he wasn't really bothered by the sound of the storm. He was too busy stuffing his face or sleeping to even acknowledge it most of the time.”

Plagg didn't waste any time getting out of the carrier, and he wasn't quiet about it. “If my cat turns out fat, it's all because of you.”

“I'll take him on walks,” she mused, purposely tapping her chin with her index finger. “I'm sure I'd be able to find a leash small enough, right?”

He pulled a face. “Don't you dare.”

“Fine, fine,” she agreed with a laugh.

And as she sat down on the edge of his bed, he assumed that she was planning to stay for a while. He might've felt awkward about that in the beginning, but being in a small space with her had become somewhat routine, with only the past week or so disrupting that. It was nice to see her in person, in fact, instead of across the hall as they continued to text to make up for their lack of talking.

To his surprise, she blurted out, “Is it weird that I missed spending time with you?”

A laugh escaped him. “I was thinking the same thing, really.”

“Oh.” The redness on her face from being outside hadn't left. “I—yeah.”

It was such a lame reply, but it was one that he was starting to associate with her. She had random bouts of shyness that had bewildered him at first, sometimes stuttering out of nowhere, and it was slowly starting to become endearing to him. Especially the way that she fiddled with her hair when she wasn't too sure what to say.

“I have a question,” he announced, choosing to sit down on the chair by his desk instead of beside her.

She was too busy staring at his cat to look at him. “Shoot.”

“Okay,” Adrien started slowly, stalling. “It's... I don't know, really. It might be a really dumb question, but I do want to know.”

“Ask me, then.” The amusement was clear in her voice. “Can't be any worse than seeing me die all the time, right?”

There was no hitch in her pronunciation, no change in her breathing to show her emotions as she said that. The desensitisation was clearly happening to her, too, but he knew that if he witnessed it happening to anyone in front of him—rather than dreaming about it from first person—that he'd definitely be traumatised by it.

He turned the chair to face her better. “Why did you find it so hard to talk to me in the beginning?”

Her lips parted silently before she closed them, still staring down at Plagg. Whether it was to avoid looking at him or not, he wasn't sure. “I-I just found it hard.”

That didn't really answer his question.

Marinette cleared her throat. “It was really hard to understand what was going on at all, you know? I mean, I'd heard about you for a while from Chloé, then you were suddenly saving my life out of nowhere.”

As much as he wanted to chime in, she didn't let him.

“It was fucking terrifying seeing you on the floor after pulling us out of the way, I'm not gonna lie,” she continued on, voice growing quiet as she tucked her legs up underneath her. “Then, Chloé starts going on about you again and I wake up one day after dreaming about you _dying_.”

He didn't have the heart to tell her that her dirty shoes were on his bed.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I just clammed up because I was panicking.”

There was no denying that she'd been visibly nervous on their first trip to a café together. “I kind of seemed like you hated me in the beginning.”

“As if.” Her laugh was only half-hearted. “I... I was just a nervous wreck compared to you, Adrien. You looked so confident and didn't even seem to be bothered that I'd just saved you from a fucking flowerpot, of all things.”

“That's ridiculous,” he exclaimed, shooting up from his seat and sitting down beside her, causing her to turn her head to look at him. “I'm anxious all the time. I just—I try to hide it with bad jokes and stuff.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Really?”

“Definitely,” Adrien confirmed, nodding his head and causing some strands of his hair to hit his eyelashes from his movements. “I was so fucking worried that you didn't want to be my friend for some reason, and—and when I almost _kicked_ you—”

The laugh that came from her was nice to hear, and it brightened up her expression in a matter of seconds. “That's a relief,” she interrupted, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I guess you're just really good at hiding it.”

He let out an audible breath. “That's not what it feels like to me.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed, soft smile reaching her eyes. “But you really do look like you have everything all figured out—most of the time, at least.”

With a laugh, Adrien replied, “Until I have to beg you to hide my cat.”

“Yes.” Her laugh was slightly breathy. “I can't believe I'm an accomplice to your criminal acts now.”

Adrien grinned. “Look into Plagg's eyes and tell me you don't love him.”

“That's evil,” she accused, lightly hitting his arm. “You know I can't say no to him. That's why I almost ended up overfeeding him last night.”

And at that moment, he couldn't think of anywhere else that he would've liked to have been. Spending time with Marinette had turned out to always be enjoyable once they'd gotten over the drama in the beginning, and to know that she'd willingly hid Plagg without asking any questions about it—she'd been more concerned that he didn't want to know about his death—made him happier than he thought it would've.

She was a good friend, a really good one. He liked to think that they would've befriended each other without the dreams, but that wasn't realistic; without saving Chloé, and therefore making up with her, they wouldn't have met at all.

He and Chloé were both equally stubborn, so they wouldn't have apologised to each other in the long run. He would've passed Marinette in the hallways without giving her a second chance, not knowing the way her smile reached her eyes when she was genuine, or the sound of her laughter when she truly thought something was amusing.

There was a lot of positives that he would've missed out on.

“He should feel blessed that he was able to spend the night with you at all,” Adrien mused, leaning forward to reach the floor, so he could pet Plagg's head. “I do hope he didn't share your bed without permission.”

She snorted. “It's fine, he doesn't take up as much space as you do on it.”

As he sat upright, he made a wounded noise and put a hand over his heart. “That's harsh.”

“It's okay,” Marinette replied, leaning back with her palms on his bed. “You'll always spend more time than him on it.”

He was absolutely aware of how hot his face felt.

-x-

Realising that he had more than platonic feelings for Marinette was sudden. He'd adamantly thought they were friendship, especially because of the reason that they were talking and spending time together at all, but that was swiftly corrected when he flushed from her teasing.

That didn't mean that he acted any different around her, though. After the lightning prediction—which he'd dubbed as the most dramatic, other than the initial car accident—they'd gone back to spending time together, but not going out of their way to spend as much as possible with each other. As much as Adrien liked studying in her room, he did want to spend time with Plagg.

However, because it was almost the middle of February, it meant that there was a lot of sales of love-related foods, gifts on display in different shop windows, and a lot of questions about his love-life from his co-workers (to which he just nervously laughed and changed the subject).

The crush he had on Marinette wasn't overly juvenile, thankfully. His hands didn't get sweaty when he thought about sitting next to her; he supposed that would've happened if they didn't actually know each other, and he'd only liked her from afar, rather than knowing what she looked like when she was tired, or how grumpy she was in the mornings.

It was a little overwhelming how much he knew about her before realising how precious that was.

“Marinette,” he called from where he was sat on her bed, laptop over his thighs. She'd laughed the first time he'd gotten comfortable underneath her covers, but she was the one that had a blanket draped over her dramatically from the desk to try and keep warm. “Are you busy?”

She groaned, and he could see as she rested her chin on her palm, still staring down at her own laptop. “Just contemplating ignoring your next warning—you know, the usual.”

Their blasé mentions of death fit in most conversations naturally.

Quietly, he asked, “Do you think we would've been friends without the whole, well, death thing?”

There was a small pause. He wondered whether he was being too silly by asking that at all, but those thoughts were interrupted by Marinette answering with, “I'd like to think so?”

It kind of sounded like a question. “Really?” And, to his horror, his voice cracked. Adrien tried to cover it up by clearing this throat, but his face already felt hot from embarrassment as she softly laughed.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, lips curling into a smile that he had to look away from. “Even without the death thing, as you put it, I've seen pictures of you before, so I would've recognised you.”

“Pictures with Chloé's awful commentary,” he muttered.

She laughed. “She wouldn't have bothered talking about you at all if she didn't care about you, Adrien. It just sounded like the two of you got into a petty argument and avoided each other because of it.”

“That's an understatement,” he mused. There was no denying that it was true, but he had to wonder how much of the whole story that Marinette knew. He was aware that she knew of the fake relationship that he'd had with Chloé, but not the rest of it. “Sorry, I'm just being dumb.”

“It's not dumb,” Marinette immediately replied, turning in her seat so she was facing him. “And even if I didn't recognise you from Chloé showing me pictures, you—you kind of stand out.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I—yeah,” she stuttered, reaching up and fiddling with one of her earrings as her gaze flickered to his laptop before back up to his face.

A bit surprised by her reaction, he prodded, “You might need to explain that to me a bit more.”

“Stop fishing for compliments,” she retorted without any heat, her smile growing. “I don't have to tell you something so obvious.”

“No, no,” he started, closing the laptop shut and putting it to the side closest to the wall (so it wouldn't slip off onto the floor, as it unfortunately had done in the past). “Why do I stand out?”

He could see her spinning her earring. “You're tall.”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed, thinking of how she barely came up to his shoulder when they were stood side-by-side, “but a lot of others are, too.”

Her hand slipped, fingers running through her hair before it fell onto her lap. “You're—you're blond.”

A startled laugh escaped him. “Okay?”

With what sounded like a frustrated noise, he watched as he covered her face with her hands. “Please, don't make me say it.”

Considering that he wasn't too sure with where she was taking their conversation—and wouldn't deny that he was immensely enjoying her reactions—Adrien pointed out, “But I don't even know where this is going, Marinette.”

“You're really attractive, okay?” she shot back quickly, continuing to keep her face hidden with her hands. But to hear that from her, combined with the shy body language, made his chest feel warm. “That can't be news to you—”

He couldn't stop himself from bluntly stating, “You thinking that is definitely news to me.”

There was little to no technique to his flirting. Sometimes, when they were just teasing each other, he had to wonder whether it could really be counted as flirting, or friendly banter that he just _wanted_ to see another way. He'd fretted a bit over whether Marinette could possibly see him in anything but a platonic way, and considering his lack of tact, that moment was the best opportunity that he was going to get.

He had to wonder whether she'd be able to notice how nervous he was, since she knew him better than before.

With a strangled laugh, Marinette's muffled voice announced, “I want to die.”

She was cute.

“You can't do that,” he replied, his amusement clear. “Dying sooner means that you have to spend time apart from me.”

When her hands fell away from her face, running her fingers through her hair in the process, he was able to see the colour that her cheeks had obtained. “Let me suffer in peace,” she moaned, not quite looking him in the eyes; rather, her gaze was focused on the laptop that he'd pushed to the side. “I'm not emotionally prepared for this conversation.”

Considering the amount of times she'd said something similar to that in the past, usually from text, Adrien had to say, “I don't think you're prepared for anything, Marinette.”

“But definitely not this.”

There was no denying the smugness in his voice as he asked for clarification, “What, telling me you think I'm hot?”

“Don't let it get to your head.” And when she lifted her eyes up to look at him, they were narrowed, with her lips curled into a smile that she was trying to actively suppress. It wasn't a very intimidating expression.

The blush, that was for once not due to the cold weather, was a charming addition.

“If it helps, I think you're pretty hot, too.” The words were out before he could stop that, and he was sure that as he saw her eyes widen, that his matched. “I—” Adrien started, trying to think of some way to backtrack, confidence faltering, but he just closed his mouth when he saw the way she was staring at him.

Her voice was soft as she questioned, “You're—you're not just saying that, are you?”

It really wasn't how he imagined confessing to her. Well, that wasn't quite right—he tried to avoid those daydreams for the most part since he was hit with the realisation of his feelings.

“No.” He swallowed. “I'm not.”

As she stared at him, he had to wonder whether he was doing the wrong thing. They'd agreed to spend time together in the beginning almost reluctantly, and although he classed her as his closest friend—with Nino coming in second, to which he would never tell Chloé about unless he wanted to offend her—he didn't want to ruin anything between them.

“I like you,” Adrien confessed, a hand reaching up to fiddle with the hairs at the nape of his neck nervously, averting his eyes to avoid seeing her reaction. “But I—I mean, if you don't see me as anything more than a friend, I'm really fine with that? I wasn't planning on telling you at all.”

Of all the things she could've said—rejecting him, asking what he thought he was doing—Marinette spoke up to ask, “Why not?”

“Why not?” he parroted back, lifting his head up to look at her incredulously. “Because we're practically forced to spend time together?”

He could see her lick her lips. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” It sounded a bit hollow. “I—this is really awkward.”

“I had no idea,” Marinette announced, shifting in the chair and fiddling with her sleeve on her lap. “I was pretty hopeful at times, but you—I don't know, really. I thought I was reading everything wrong, especially when stopped spending every day together. I... I thought you'd go back to not wanting be over here if it all worked out.”

That was a lot to take in. Her words were a bit ambiguous, but if he was being hopeful—as much as she was implying that she'd been—it meant that he'd been oblivious. “I like spending time with you,” he assured her.

The small smile that she showed him was so wonderful to see. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, a bit bashful. “But I missed spending time with Plagg.”

When she laughed, she put a hand over her mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“Don't laugh!” he scolded through his own laughter, voice a little higher-pitched than usual due to his amusement. “He's wormed his way into the number one spot in my heart.”

“Right,” Marinette agreed, still fiddling with her clothing. “Any chance I can fight someone for the number two spot?”

He couldn't stop his grin. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you?”

“I—”

Adrien interrupted her by asking, “Shouldn't we try and go on a date first?”

He was absolutely sure that his face felt as hot as hers looked. “That's a good idea,” she admitted, reaching up to touch her earring again. “But I have to ask for Plagg to stay in your room, just so he won't show me up.”

“I won't whip out that leash I bought for you to use for him, then,” he lamented dramatically. “Maybe you'll use it on our second date.”

With a grin, Marinette pointed out, “Who's getting ahead now?”

Childishly, he stuck his tongue out.

As they were spending time together again, it meant that the following week didn't come with a death prediction. However, it did arrive with Adrien turning up at her dorm with a box of chocolates underneath his arm, and she'd laughed stupidly when she'd seen them before revealing that she'd bought the same ones for him.

Rather than telling their mutual friends that they were actually going on a date, instead of simply spending time together, they kept the sudden development to themselves. Adrien admitted that he was worried that Chloé might go a little overboard with either a positive or negative emotion if she found out that they were getting closer (Chloé was still jealous that they were able to see each other more than she saw either of them), and that he wanted to keep it quiet in case it didn't work out well.

He had a lot of insecurities, of course. Even though they'd spent countless hours together over the past few months, texting when they weren't together, he still had to wonder whether she'd really like him for everything that she was; then again, the thought that she was probably thinking the same thing about him was one that had him not knowing how to feel.

Marinette returning his feelings at all had seemed like a fantasy, but with her standing there, wearing a dress that he'd never seen her wear before—she liked to be comfortable when they stayed inside, which happened to be a good amount of their time together—the thought that she'd thought that she had to dress up for him made his ears feel hot.

A couple of weeks ago he'd seen her in pyjamas that had had a large stain in them, as she'd been too lazy to do her laundry.

They chose to go to the cinema instead of waiting for a better quality torrent of a new film to illegally download and watch it together. After they'd agreed to split the costs, with her paying for the tickets only, and Adrien fumbled with his wallet and ended up throwing coins at the employee by accident.

“I want to die,” he moaned as she laughed at his embarrassment as they walked down the hallway to their designated theatre.

She patted his back mockingly. “No, you don't.”

“I'm going to drown myself in this overpriced fizzy drink.”

“But who would look after Plagg if you're gone?” Marinette remarked. “I know that I can't, and Chloe would buy him a nametag for that awful nickname she calls him, you know the—”

With his free hand, he lightly swatted her arm to make her pull it away. “My cat is not going to grow up responding to anything but his real name.”

“Adrien,” she started, looking at him in concern. “He responds to dude.”

He sniffed. “Nino feeds him, he gets a free pass.”

There wasn't much room for talking during the film. It wasn't very riveting, though, and when the scenes were unnecessarily long and boring, he glanced to the side and saw Marinette looking at him more than once. The first time he did that and she saw him looking, she'd scrunched her face up to make him laugh, and he'd choked on his drink.

He was prepared for the second, responding in kind by making an unattractive expression.

It wasn't an evening filled with with nerves and insecurities. Adrien _knew_ her—knew how to make her laugh and smile, and the right kind of thing to say when they both walked out of the theatre and realised that the film was absolutely awful. Then, as he asked whether she wanted to eat dinner together, Marinette gently clasped his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers out of nowhere.

“How about we go back to yours instead?” she proposed, squeezing his hand gently. “I'd rather see Plagg and cook something with you, rather than sit in another uncomfortable chair while we wait for our food.”

He couldn't help but laugh. “It wasn't that bad, Marinette.”

“Your ass didn't go numb in ten minutes,” she shot back, haughtily raising her chin up. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

He hummed in reply.

The rest of the evening wasn't too different to normal. He gave in to Marinette's begging and allowed her to bring Plagg into the kitchen, as long as she made sure he didn't dart out into the hallway when the door was open, and she was more than happy to play with him while the food was cooking.

Nino came in halfway through, dragging his feet along loudly to announce his presence, and barely batted an eyelash at the two of them.

Unlike him, it seemed that Nino didn't notice the change in her usual attire.

As always when they ate around Plagg, it resulted in them having to lift him up and put him on the floor every time he jumped on the counter to investigate. Adrien made a noise of surprise when Plagg resorted to trying to scale his jeans, using his claws to make it halfway up before he was put onto the ground again.

It was halfway through their meal that Adrien cleared his throat before he said, “You look really pretty today.”

“Oh,” was what left her lips, and he averted his eyes to look down at his food. “Thank you?”

The fact that it sounded like a question made him laugh. “You always do,” Adrien assured her, reaching up to run a hand through his hair quickly. “I just—I've never told you before, that's all.”

When he chanced a look upwards, he was almost floored to see the colour that had appeared on her face. “Thank you,” she replied softly.

He thought that he should've been nervous, wondering whether they were acting different enough to their usual selves, but that wasn't the case. If it had been strictly platonic—even after the awkward confession between them—then Marinette wouldn't have held his hand when they walked back to his dorm. At that moment, that was the only difference that he could see from their usual days together.

So, it was only logical that he'd ask, “Was the date good enough for you to consider me your boyfriend?”

The startled laugh that came from her was loud, seeming to echo in the room. “Isn't that obvious already?”

“Not really?” He shrugged, almost knocking over his cutlery in the process. “For all I know, this could be a pity dinner and a last chance to see my cat before you disappear on me.”

She grinned. “And wish death upon myself sooner? I think being your girlfriend isn't so bad in comparison to that.”

He knew that her words were only teasing, that she wouldn't be too shy to actually say how she felt about the situation, Adrien still had to ponder whether there was a slither of truth in it all.

Pushing the plate aside so he wouldn't almost catch the cutlery again, Adrien softly pointed out, “You don't have to date me just because you don't want to die, you know. We can still spend time together as friends.”

Then, instead of answering him verbally, Marinette stood up from her stool, walking around the side and approaching him until she was standing beside him. Adrien raised his eyebrows in a silent question, wondering what her purpose was, before she gently placed her hands on his shoulder.

“Okay?” he questioned, a bit bewildered from her actions. “If this is your way of softening the blow, it's mostly just confusing me. You might want to work on your technique.”

He could barely see her blue-coloured irides as she smiled. “Stop being a dork.”

“Stop being strange, then,” he shot back without any heat, shifting in his seat to face her. Their heights were closer at that moment, rather than compared to when they were both standing up. “I'm getting very mixed signals.”

As one of her hands trailed up his neck, fingers combing through the short stands of hair there, Adrien almost jumped as she asked, “And how mixed would they be if I asked to kiss you?”

He swallowed. “Terribly.”

“Maybe I shouldn't ask,” she mused, and he was very aware of her knees touching his. “I wouldn't want to confuse you.”

Taking a chance, he reached out and loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, silently persuading her to lean closer to him. “If you want the number two spot in my heart, you definitely need to kiss me,” he pointed out, his own smile widening. “You are still hoping for that, aren't you?”

If they were standing up, he would've been the one looking down at her. Instead, he was gazing up at her, neck not tilting so far that it was uncomfortable, in a direction angle that he didn't usually see.

Her nose gently pressed against his. “It's definitely on my bucket list.”

There was a lot of different situations that he'd thought of when he imagined kissing her. And yet, none of them had really involved his kitchen or the words that they were using—then again, it seemed to be a part of them to casually reference the reason that they knew each other at all.

In what could only be classed as a whisper, Adrien said, “Well, if you don't want to die any time soon, you might want to close your eyes.”

Her lips were soft.

It wasn't filled with passion, lust, or overly enthusiastic; rather, it was slow and tentative, and he was more than aware of each part of her body that was touching him. From gentle feel of her caressing his hair—not tugging or causing him to wince in pain—to how her nose was brushing against his cheek as they tried to find an angle that was comfortable for the both of him.

It wasn't perfect, but it was nice. Adrien continued to embrace her loosely, tempted to stand up but rejected that thought when he realised it was too presumptuous to expect the kiss to go on that long. There was a moment where their teeth accidentally hit each other, and he'd sucked in a breath from surprise, only to feel her smile as she made a noise of amusement, not pulling away.

There was no denying that it definitely wasn't platonic to them during them. From the warmth that was appearing on his face, that wasn't due to her breath, and the stirring within his abdomen, he hoped that she was experiencing a similar reaction.

Which was silly, really. If she hadn't been enjoying it, she would've pulled away, rather than edge closer, one hand falling down onto his shoulder to steady herself.

The only reason they stopped was because he yelped and pulled away, almost falling off the stool, when he became aware of a sharp pain on his calf. The sensation was accompanied by high-pitched noises that could only be from Plagg, and looking down confirmed that he'd tried to climb his jeans again.

Marinette laughed until she had tears.

-x-

It took a month and a half for another dream.

Marinette had proudly called him her boyfriend after their first date, and they'd told their friends the following week. Well, Marinette told Chloé the following weekend when they met up for coffee, while Alya had happened to walk into them kissing when their food was cooking a few days prior.

While Adrien had just grinned at her, not sure what to say to the shocked expression, Marinette had hit her face in her hands and made a noise of embarrassment.

She was definitely cute.

There wasn't any pressure for them to do anything different than normal. Sometimes, Adrien studied in her bedroom, taking up the bed and enjoying how comfortable it felt, and she came over to his whenever she didn't have papers that Plagg would play with. It was a nice system, one that they'd fallen into naturally, and it worked well for them.

There was a night where he'd accidentally fallen asleep at hers, woken up at midnight, and hastily apologised and panicked, saying that he needed to get back home to Plagg to make sure that he was okay.

Nino had looked at him strangely in the morning, pointing out that he'd already fed him, and that he might as well have been dubbed his co-owner due to how happy he was to care for him. Still, it made Adrien feel a little guilty for always spending so much time away, especially when he wasn't supposed to have Plagg in the first place.

Marinette wasn't offended from his sudden exit, but he did still feel embarrassed about it. It probably wasn't normal to run out in panic when he was offered the chance to spend the night with her, and he quickly admitted that the next time they were together.

“I don't mind,” Marinette assured him, wasting no time in reaching out and clasping his hand gently in hers. “It's pretty sweet seeing how much you care about him. I just forgot, that's all.”

“Still,” Adrien muttered, free hand touching the nape of his neck idly. “I... I just want you to know that it's not because of you.”

She grinned. “Well, it kind of is. I'm nothing in comparison to him.”

With a laugh, he tried to placate her with, “We can't all be Plagg.”

It wasn't that much of a surprise when she suddenly asked one evening if she could spend the night at his instead. Adrien had stared at her in surprise for a bit before agreeing, happily lending her some clothes to wear since she hadn't brought anything along with her, and it had ended up with Plagg kneading her hair and waking her up in the middle of the night.

“I'm so sorry,” Adrien spluttered, picking the cat up and quickly putting him down on the floor.

But Marinette just laughed it off, not offended in the least.

When he woke up after a dream of her dying, she was sleeping beside him.

Adrien blinked, eyes adjusting to the light, keeping his gaze on her face. The pillow had left creases on her cheeks, meaning that she'd recently turned over, and her hair was an utter mess, but just seeing her so vulnerable and trusting him did wonders for his heartbeat.

Then, as he slowly sat up after watching her breathe—too which he assured himself it wasn't creepy, that it was only natural after what he'd woken up to seeing—he spotted the blob of darkness that was curled up by the back of her legs and he was absolutely sure he made some kind of noise in response to seeing.

He'd learned from a distance that she wasn't good at holding conversations when she'd just woken up, even through text, and that remained the same after they'd spent the night together. Marinette's eyes were half-lidded and tired when she woke up, and he patiently waited, going about his day and making a drink for either of them and scrolling through his phone, rather than trying to force her into anything.

There was still an hour or so until his class while she had the day off.

“Hey,” she started, her voice thick from sleep.

“Morning.” There was no denying the fondness in his voice as he looked at her sleepily rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand. “Got some good and bad news for you. Which do you want first?”

She yawned. “Give me the bad, I guess.”

“Okay.” He took a sip of his drink. “If you leave my apartment today, you're going to get mugged and stabbed. I'm not really sure where, so it looks like you're on house arrest.”

She didn't even stiffen at that. “Oh.”

“And the good,” he started, using his hand that wasn't holding the mug to point to the blob on the bed with a flourish. “You get to spend the whole day with Plagg. What a lucky girl you are.”

Her response to that was to flop back on the mattress, her head landing beside his cat. And when Plagg noticed her, he stretched pushing the paws of his back legs into her face.

He really wished he'd had his camera ready to take a picture.

When he was in class, she had no problems with sending him pictures, though. There was a lot of Plagg playing with his toys, some with a small part of Marinette's head poking in the top of the picture to show her smiling, and a lot of messages to go with all the images that made him wish that he'd just skipped classes for that day.

She'd recently taken a shower when he got home. The smell of shampoo was filling up the room, a flush to her cheeks that definitely wasn't because of him, and it was definitely something that he liked returning back to.

It didn't take much convincing to get her to stay for another night, even though it had been daylight in his dream. Still, he felt entitled to be worried about her, especially when he only knew vague details of what was supposed to happen.

“When is your birthday?” Adrien questioned when they were just watching dumb videos on his laptop. Sadly, she hadn't brought hers along the previous day, but he'd been more than happy to allow her to use his while he was gone.

She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you being serious?”

He blinked. “Yes?”

Vaguely, she waved her hand in the direction of his desk, as though that answered all his questions.

“What?” Adrien blurted instead, not quite getting it.

“Really?” And when it became clear that he wasn't going to answer that, Marinette let out an audible sigh as she tucked her legs underneath her on the bed. “I guess I can forgive you for forgetting. You are quite bad at remembering shit.”

A non-committal noise left him, one that was mostly trying to prompt her to continue.

“The car accident,” she explained, gesturing towards the desk again. “We didn't really talk, but that's why Chloé wanted me to thank you so badly.”

It became clear that she was gesturing towards the corkboard, the one that had only just been flipped around after a month and a half. “I can't believe I forgot about that,” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “It feels like ages ago. Chloé was even mad that I beat her birthday present by saving you.”

She snorted. “That definitely sounds like her.”

“It does,” he confirmed. Then, with a sudden realisation, he turned to look at her with his eyebrows furrowed. “That means this started on your eighteenth, right?”

She shrugged. “Sure? I don't see why that even matters.”

That was true. Even with their half-hearted research—the most that they could do, since there wasn't anything on the internet—they hadn't come to a concrete conclusion on anything other than spending time together increased the time between accidents. Even though most of the deaths were exaggerated, extreme, and not the normal way people died (Marinette pondered why they couldn't just dream about infected cuts, then theorised it was because it would've been too long), they still had no idea about why it was happening at all.

“It's just weird, that's all,” he said with a sigh, falling back against his mattress and staring up at the ceiling. “I really don't get what's going on with us.”

“It sounds like something from a terrible play, you know,” she mused, stretching outside beside him on her stomach, elbows propped up and resting her head in her hands so she could look at him. “Fate trying to kill us if we're not together and all that.”

He let out a laugh. “Except we're still being murdered even when we're together.”

To his surprise, the next words from her lips were, “This better not be because we haven't slept together.”

Adrien's laughter was loud. “This isn't some shotgun wedding by fate, Marinette.”

“You never know,” she replied, teaching out to lightly tap the end of his nose. “All we know is that we have to spend time together, so what's to say I'm wrong? Maybe we're going to be murdered until we tie the knot.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It was hard enough confessing to you, there's no way I'm proposing any time soon.”

She rolled her eyes. “The murders are supposed to be a shotgun forcing you to marry me in this scenario, Adrien.”

“I've had enough of pushy parental figures, thank you,” he muttered.

“Your father?”

It wasn't something they spoke about often, but he didn't actively avoid it. He just didn't want to bring down the mood with his feelings towards his remaining family member—it was much better to gloss over it and pretend everything was fine.

But he didn't want to lie to her, so he quietly confirmed it. “Yeah,” he said, a half-hearted smile on his lips. “Not quite sure I'll be able to hide Plagg in his house during the summer. I might have to beg Chloe to take him in for a bit.”

“She'd be happy about that,” Marinette replied, her own smile reaching her eyes. “He's getting big, though. I don't think I'll be able to pass him off as an obscure art project soon.”

That was something none of them had really thought about. Smuggling in a kitten was one thing, and then Marinette hiding him under a sheet, but he'd be fully grown when Adrien had to move into his new dorm. He could only hope that he'd be able to find out close by that allowed pets, but that wasn't very realistic. He didn't have the money to actually afford a real apartment, even with room-mates, and just thinking about that was enough to make him frown when he saw how big Plagg was getting in his bedroom.

His bedroom at home would be more than big enough for the both of them, but he didn't want to live at home, not with the stifling atmosphere and no pets rule.

“I admit, no one was thinking realistically when they bought me a cat.”

“You saved Chloé, so she probably just wanted to do something really big for you,” she pointed out.

It still felt a bit weird to acknowledge that he'd been able to do that. For all the other predictions that they'd had, no one else had really been involved (and in the rare cases where they had, either of them had woken up too quickly to know if they'd been hurt), but the first one that caused everything in his life to change because of it.

“If you—I mean, only if you _want_ to—” Marinette stopped herself from rambling, taking in an audible breath. “We—we could see about renting a house together next year?”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yes?” It sounded like a question at the end, but it didn't stop her from continuing to say, “It might be a bit much, so we could—could see if Nino and Alya want to join us?”

It was really sweet of her, truly.

“Marinete,” he started, putting a hand over his heart. “Are you proposing to me?”

No longer supporting herself with her elbows, Marinette pressed her face into the mattress as she lamented, “Why are you like this?”

“Because you wouldn't love me any other way?” he supplied, reaching out and brushing her hair away from her face that she still had hidden. “There's no going back now. It's a shotgun wedding, remember?”

“I'm gonna go outside and get stabbed to avoid you.”

He snorted. “Don't do that. The floor felt really cold.”

Her words were muffled as she retorted, “Thank you for noticing that, Adrien. That's a lot more helpful than knowing what time of day the attack happened.”

“Just caring about you.” He patted her head. “I'm sure you'll get back to me with my death soon.”

Marinette immediately replied, “I'll make sure to remember the least helpful things.”

“You really know how to make my heart flutter.”

The weeks passed normally. When Adrien brought up the topic of where they were thinking of living for the next year, Nino was more than happy with the idea that he proposed. Alya was, too, especially when she realised that it was because of Plagg that he was suggesting it in the first place. Admitting that it was Marinette's idea resulted in her getting a huge hug from Alya, to which she shot a panicked look at him over her shoulder since it was out of nowhere, but it was nice to see them interact so freely.

Chloé crashed one of their dates.

Marinette had made the mistake of telling her exactly where they were going. Chloé had turned up without any warning, loudly calling their names as she entered the bowling alley and caught sight of them, but he wasn't too upset with her interruption.

They didn't see each other often, and seeing how big Marinette's smile was when she caught sight of her friend, any traces of annoyance that had appeared had gone just as quickly. They'd paid for another game so Chloé could join them—and be absolutely awful at it—but it was fun.

Chloé got a lot of pleasure out of taking pictures of the two of them, especially as Marinette was embarrassed to be intimate with him about people that they knew. She'd had to work up the courage to kiss him in the hallway at university when they parted ways before, but he never pushed her for it. Even if she'd just squeeze his hand or give him a hug before they said good-bye, it was more than enough to see the softness in her expression when she looked at him.

He was the one to blurt out that he loved her first.

It was an accident, really. She'd been playing with Plagg while they were watching a film together, before the feline had decided to stretch out and take up most of her chest while he tried to sleep. Rather than push him away, her reaction had been to grin and gently pet his head, and Adrien couldn't think of anything better than that moment.

“I think I love you.”

She didn't jump in surprise or turn to look at him. Her gaze continued to stare down at the cat that was resting on her as she mused, “Well, I should hope so. He is yours.”

A fond laugh left him. “I meant you, Marinette.”

“Oh.” Her hand didn't stop petting Plagg, but she a shy smile tugged on her lips. “That's nice to hear.”

And if it wasn't for the way her voice wobbled as she tried not to laugh, he would've thought of it as a rejection. “That's not what you're supposed to say.”

“Is it not?” she queried, smile growing wider. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

A laugh did escape as she said, “My bad.”

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I love you.”

“I know,” Marinette replied, not trying to hide the amusement in her voice. “I heard you the first time.”

He crossed his arms. “You thought I was talking to my cat!”

“No, no.” She leaned to the side, resting her head on his shoulder without jostling Plagg too much. “I'm just teasing you. I'm bad at being put on the spot.”

He muttered, “If you want to stay my girlfriend, you're gonna have to say it back to me someday.”

“But then you wouldn't pout like this.”

“I'm not pouting.” She couldn't even see upwards without tilting her head back. “I'm really offended, that's all.”

She shifted to get comfortable against him. “Cute.”

“But am I cute enough to love, Marinette?” he lamented. “Because it's feeling a lot like you love my cat more than me right now. He can't be number one in both of our hearts.”

She snorted. “I'm pretty sure some mystic force wants me to love you, so I guess I'll have to give in someday.”

It made him laugh. “Stop trying to make your shotgun wedding theory right. It's absolutely coincidental that I like you.”

“Listen, I'm absolutely convinced that's the only way to stop this evil spirit from murdering either of us.”

“It's an evil spirit now?” he questioned, amused. “I thought it was supposed to be fate.”

He could feel her shrug against him. “Whatever it is, it's a dick.”

“You're as eloquent as ever, Marinette.”

Laughing, she announced, “I love you, too, dork.”

“Nice,” Adrien replied, resting his chin on top of her head. “But I'm still not convinced we have to get married to stop predicting each other's deaths. That's just a bit insane.”

“What if it's just loving each other?” she quipped, leaning back so she could look at him again. “That'll be pretty neat. If I ever get a dream about you dying again, it'll mean you don't love me any more.”

A loud laugh escaped him. “It's not some power to make sure I'm faithful to you!”

“You don't have to cheat to not love me any more,” she pointed out, sitting up and causing Plagg to jump off onto the floor from the sudden movement. “Besides, the deaths slow down whenever we spend time together, right?”

“Sure,” he agreed slowly, not quite ready to say yes to all her theories. “But that doesn't mean we have to die because we're not having sex.”

She hit his arm lightly. “Think it through, genius. The prediction since we started dating was a lot longer than the last one, right?”

“But we didn't spend more time together,” he pointed out. “I think we spent less, actually. Since I'm coming back here for Plagg more.”

“But you're letting me sleep over.”

He snorted. “You just want to think there's some higher power wanting us to bone.”

“I was going to have more tact that that,” Marinette muttered. “Bone's a bit too harsh when we're talking about something that's trying to kill us in many gruesome ways.”

Maybe they wouldn't get all the answers, but as long as he was able to help her avoid any life-threatening accidents, he was satisfied with just that. The first dream had been disorientating, especially with the pain, but it was worth it to meet her. Without recognising Chloé, she would've been another reported fatality in an accident, one that he never would've gotten to know.

“Fine,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “But it's going to get a bit annoying in the long run if we can't call each other. I'm absolutely up for eloping in the future so I can finally hear you grumble at me in the morning without telling you about your death.”

She shot him a half-hearted glare. “You have a point, but I don't like it.”

“Cute.” He grinned.

-x-

When they realised that two months had passed without any predictions—the longest since they'd met—there was no denying the smugness in Marinette's smile as she exclaimed, “You still love me!”

He stubbornly crossed his arms. “No, I'm not believing your insane theory.”

And instead of an anniversary each month marking when they started dating (as some enthusiastic couples did), Marinette had decided to start gifting him a generic card that she'd scribbled a message inside of, congratulating him for living since it was supposed to be his turn to appear in her dreams.

He kept them all in a small box, one that was eventually abandoned in favour of a larger one that he put the corkboard inside of when he had to move back to his father's house for the summer. Chloé had agreed to take care of Plagg until they were able to move into the rented home that they'd gone to visit the week before, which meant that he had a couple of weeks where he lived far away from his friends.

Marinette was working for her parents for the summer, able to stop whenever they were able to move into their new home, and she, along with Nino and Alya, lived too much of a distance for him to go out of his way and visit each day. So, instead he stayed inside and awkwardly tried to get along with his father, which ended in a disaster when he realised that he couldn't tell him about Plagg, and he really didn't want to deal with all the questions about Marinette.

He settled with telling him that he was friends with Chloé again.

Even in the weeks that he was apart from Marinette, she didn't have another dream about him. She was still smug and convinced that she was utterly right—that they were meant to be together in some way—and he couldn't help but laugh each time she said that.

He couldn't think of a better person to be his supposed soulmate.

“Don't stop loving me, then,” Adrien requested instead of rejecting the theory. “I want to die of natural causes, not because of your cruelness.”

She laughed. “I'll try my best.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) (۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶♥


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